Faded Light
by DrakeTheTraveller
Summary: There is a saying for those who endure, for those that weather and those that do not submit. There are those that live to survive, and those that survive to live. Most may not understand the difference. But for those that do... they live by a simple methodology. One may bow, but they cannot break. For a huntsman or a guardian, it matters not.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Old World Old Problems

" _Good morning, Guardian! It has been_ _326,675 days_ _, 23 hours, and 15 minutes since planetfall!"_

"Must you remind me of this every day?" He demanded of the hovering machine as it loomed pleasantly over his bed, the plated petals of its ever-shifting housing twirling with a lively energy he certainly did not feel like emulating. This morning, as mornings often tended to be, was not a time he enjoyed. The mimetic nature of his dreams was somewhat counterintuitive to their intended function. His memories were sour enough that he didn't need to re-live the irritating events of his morose life.

" _Certainly not."_ The artificial intelligence clarified as it dipped its chassis low. _"But you know what they say about habits."_ It added with an airy chuckle.

"Remind me to uninstall your humor subroutine." He muttered resignedly as he slung himself into a half decent, upright position on his bed. Unsurprisingly, the spherical shard of light paid no heed to his pedantically rehearsed threat. As he sat there, contemplating the most recent memory to assail his subconscious giving its dying breath in his head, the guardian ran a hand across the rough finish of the wooden frame with a distracted eye, the sensation of coarsely hewn and sanded ash tickling his callused palm, what was the leftover from the many trees he had cut down so many years ago.

Had it really been that long already?

He supposed time would lose its weight when one lived as long as he had. Nevertheless the concept of his own mortality, or rather his lacking of it, was something he would in all likelihood never fully cope with.

Mankind had not been meant to live so infinitely.

" _So…. What's on the docket for today?"_ His ghost inquired merrily as it lingered at the periphery of his vision, a fairly comforting reminder, at least when the damned machine wasn't relentlessly irritating, that he was not entirely alone on this wretched planet.

The guardian sighed heavily, brushing a hand across the tired lines etched into the infuriatingly youthful countenance. For his considerably advanced age, he certainly did not look the part, and he could liken the blame upon The Traveler for his unusual condition. "I would assume it would be roughly the same as it has been for the last eighty-three years." He snapped, his voice cutting sharply into the air of projected positivity coming from the floating artificial intelligence.

He watched, with a pang of ethereal regret, as the fluctuating plates of his ghost's carapace drooped, the light of its eye dimming as it emitted a considerably less cheerful, _"Right…"_

"Let's…." He sighed once again, this time exorcising the note of exhaustion from his psyche.

"Let's just go out and check the traps... alright?"

" _Sure thing, Guardian!"_ It chirped excitedly as it zoomed out of the bedroom's door, no doubt to run maintenance on his sparrow in the small shack outside his cabin.

And just like that it was back to the height of its annoying exuberance. Yet, rather than remarking upon this, the guardian merely shook his head and steeled himself for another repetitiously droll and entirely unremarkable day, the lingering echoes of a routine he had subjected himself to for little less than the last century.

It was in moments like this that he was obligated to act as his own reminder, recalling in similar moments of exasperation, that he had forced this voluntary isolation upon himself. There was nothing else, save the disappointing state of the world, to blame.

A shallow grunt of disapproval eking from his tightly pursed lips, the guardian trudged over to his wardrobe to throw on a set of hunting leathers. The uncomfortably tight fitting apparel sewed more for function than form, not all that surprising since he had lashed it together himself from the skins of the less fantastical wildlife around his wooded lodge.

As he slipped into the too-tight breeches, the man thought briefly of the wonders contained within his old guardian armor, tinged with the flicker of tantalizing interest. Heavy armor composed of reinforced, light forged plasteel plating designed to endure the wrath of mankind's enemies, merged with combat grade synthweave, more advanced than anything else produced on this miserable ball of dirt, and it was even internally regulated. Mythical weaponry forged by his own hands to fight eldritch abominations and the countless legions opposed to humanity's survival.

Then… of course… he remembered the promise he had made.

Donning his jacket, the man shrugged and moved to the door, slinging his yew longbow and quiver across his shoulder as he stepped out of his room. He looked, as he always did, to the granular craftsmanship of his home, a place he had built himself, for himself. It was small, no more than four rooms and a homely living area, but it was his. Not even his room in the Tower could quite overcome its rustic charm. There was just something about living in a place one built with their own hands, which made his situation a slight bit bearable.

As he suspected, his ghost was nowhere in sight, undoubtedly waiting for him outside. The creak of treated leather arose to his ears as he kneeled beside the plain fireplace built into the far wall of his home, the only decoration he had bothered to include during its construction. He hardly needed it for warmth, his body was nearly unaffected by the elements, but it had served its purpose admirably in the many nights he had sat by the fire and gazed into the flames.

Studying the dying embers of his previous night's musings, the guardian stoked the fading blaze and tossed in a handful of logs before turning to the outside door to depart. Just before stepping outside he pulled his cloak from the rack by the door, fastening the hemmed cloth of wolf fur around his neck. This particular piece of apparel was only donned for a percentage of its intended purpose, crafted less for staving off the cold and more for breaking up his outline in the foliage, it also kept the irksome patter of rain from his eyes whenever the weather soured.

Across the threshold he was immediately beset by the soothing white noise of the forest, the light and airy twitter of birdcalls, and the faint flutter of crimson leaves on the breeze, amidst the variety of other natural sounds.

He listened.

Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned to the shed leaning precariously against his cabin, studying the faded luster of the wood and the way its foundation rested. The thing was starting to decay. Soon he would have to either tear it all down or replace the aging planks. Perhaps a few centuries ago he might have been less than enthused by the prospect, but nowadays he had come to enjoy the rural aspect of his daily affairs, if only to combat the wearisome nature of his existence.

Unlike the ancient Chinese proverb desired, he did not in fact live in interesting times, at least not anymore. And that was perfectly alright for him.

He'd had enough.

The guardian debated on what would be best as he met the hovering figure of his ghost just outside the door.

" _Great news, Guardian! The Gjallarwing is ready and raring to go!"_

He should probably rebuild the damned thing. He'd learned a lot about construction since he first tried his hand at it, and the sight of the shed was rather pitiful to look at. Free time and immortality were excellent motivational tools to hone even the strangest of skills or trades, and he was certain he could do a better job this time around.

Giving a nod to his ghost so it wouldn't waylay him with another endless bludgeoning tirade, the guardian hurriedly stepped inside the ramshackle hut to take out the unusual vehicle. As he readied to take it out he gave his shed a quick cleaning, moving around the scattered collection of tools and odd bits of paraphernalia, whatever had caught his eye during his more nomadic days.

He paused, his eyes remaining on the rust pitted blade he had retrieved from its ignoble place upon the sawdust strewn floor. Ancient runic writing could scarcely be seen upon its corroded length, and yet despite its incredible age and poor condition, he could still feel the slightest sliver of light trapped within it.

A bitter scowl tore across his face as he flung the weapon away from him, watching as it sailed across the shack and bounced heavily across the far wall, vanishing once again inside a pile of refuse.

To this day he still could not say why he had bothered to keep it.

His mood darkened, the guardian wasted little time in dragging out his hoverbike, uncaring of the mud he splattered upon its frame as he hauled it through the wet earth. A few moments spent at the controls and the machine burst into life, lifting away from the soil to hover three feet from the ground, its once lustrous finish and gold etched engravings dirtied and abused by neglect and time.

He mounted the sparrow with a swing of his leg, settling into the comfortable and familiar geometries of its padded seat. His nose tracked the familiar scent of fresh rainfall as he studied the hoverbike's tactical overlay. A storm system must have briefly made its rounds while he slept.

That was too bad, he did enjoy the rain.

" _Shall I?"_ His ghost asked.

With a nod he watched as the spherical machine vanished in a flash of light, housed now within the light contained inside him. He frowned at the giddy rush of emotion leaking from their neural link, remembering why it was he didn't particularly enjoy this.

 _Shall we?_

The guardian suppressed his instinctive revulsion at the foreign thought now accompanying his mind and throttled the sparrow's acceleration. The vehicle thundered underneath him as it rocketed away from his cabin down a path he had cleared in the vegetation when he first arrived at the site he would eventually call home.

Swerving down the man-made path, he readied himself for another uninteresting day.

* * *

Hours passed with accustomed rapidity as he underwent motions he had performed so many times as to make them nearly second nature. Visiting each of the sites he had set up, he checked the traps he had laid out to help cull the… unruly wildlife that plagued his land.

It was hardly much of a chore, as he let his ghost do most of the work. While he may not have approved of its frivolous personality matrix; he did at least trust it was competent enough to handle the assignments it received. And whereas the little machine went about its task, he allowed himself to hunt for small game to pass the drudgery of time, though he didn't necessarily need to eat to live. Like all guardians, he subsisted off the fragments of the Traveler's light inside him, needing neither food nor rest to survive. Such a boon guaranteed their utter dedication and tireless devotion to their vital occupation.

Nevertheless, like most guardians, he still occasionally catered to such needs, if only to return to him the comforting familiarity of the humanity he now lacked. Sometimes it was easy to forget, as the years heaved endlessly onwards, what he had been, what it was he had sacrificed so much to protect. He pitied the rabbits and deer he hunted. However the return to normalcy was more important to him then the wellbeing of a few prey species, not to mention that he still retained his sense of taste and remained a fan of a well-crafted meal.

With little else to occupy his time, he needed to do something to make up for all the empty air and directionless days. Besides, preparing meals and the occasional home improvement project was preferable to his ghost's inane chatter, and often times it gave him a useful distraction from the light shard's more energetic tangents.

Notching the broadhead for his bow, he aligned the shot.

Releasing a low breath, he loosed the arrow and watched with satisfaction as it sailed through open air with expert precision. The missile impacted the deer, high shoulder, punching through its ribs and snapping its spine, quick, clean, and relatively painless. That was not to say of course, that he did anything by half measures. Even at a quarter draw strength, the animal had still been tossed onto its side by the force and velocity of the impact. Light enhanced musculature had placed him leagues above a normal man, not including his already unusual height and bulk.

A human with a longbow could do respectable work, even punch through medieval plate if they were strong enough.

A guardian, a titan notwithstanding, equipped with a longbow, could potentially pierce a cabal phalanx's shield and the heavy armor of the warrior behind it, depending on the make of the arrow and the quality of the bow. He had seen it happen before.

In this situation a deer stood no chance.

Examining the corpse, he frowned at the warped shaft of the broadhead, noting that he would need to replace it when he was finished with his work. Until then, he returned the bent arrow to his quiver and unsheathed the small skinning knife attached to his belt with a knot of cord. In a few days he would be able to turn its hide into a replacement for his fraying cloak.

" _Guardian…."_

The man paused, the deer half skinned as he heard his ghost contact him, taking interest in the machine's slight hint of concern. It had been a long time since he heard that tone. His insides twisted with anticipation, and he felt his fingers tighten upon the buckskin handle of the blade in his hand.

"What is it?"

" _We've got smoke, fifteen kilometers due southeast. It's in the direction of the local settlement in this region. And it's definitely not from a bonfire"_

His anticipation dwindled, replaced instead by a potent sense of concern and misplaced guilt. He did not mind fighting, in fact after such monotony he would have welcomed the change of pace. It had been quite a long while since he had to do more than cull a particularly boisterous forest creature. But when there was more than his own life at risk, he found it difficult to maintain his enthusiasm. Predilection for responsibility was something he had not experienced since he had last involved himself in the global state of affairs.

It was with a bitter heart that he recalled how that had ended.

And while yet he might not be the guardian he once was, duty surmounted all.

Despite the events that transpired, the soul of a guardian lingered within him.

He sighed as he looked to the deer he had slaughtered that would now go unused, a frustrating waste. He doubted it would still be here once he returned. The denizens of this crimson forest worked fast in his absence.

"Ghost, forget the traps. We can take care of that later. Set a nav marker on that smoke and get ready for transmat." He sprinted for his sparrow and quickly jumped on the machine. Not a moment later he felt the sensation of his artificial companion connect with his nervous system.

"We've got work to do."

* * *

The ripple of gunfire echoed through the town's vacant streets, intermixed with the frenzied howls of the relentless creatures assaulting their meager wooden palisade walls. And in that moment the mayor knew, as he jogged towards the sounds of combat, ill-kept sword in hand, that he should have spent more of his annual budget on their defenses.

He watched as panicked families hurried away from the walls, hoping to take refuge in the underground shelter underneath the church, their fear and anxiety a near palpable presence in the air. In that moment he knew himself as a failure. It was his responsibility to protect these people, to ensure the prosperity of their community and make life possible way out here in the wilds of the frontier.

Yet his sedentism and the lack of incursions from the wilds had lulled him into a false sense of security.

And now his people were going to pay for his negligence.

 _Not without a fight_. He assured himself as he reached the stairs leading up to the palisade, the ravenous howls of the beasts now deafening in such close proximity. He may not be a soldier, or even a competent warrior, but by the gods if he wouldn't try!

He arrived at the top of the steps, out of breath and red in the face. Not exactly in peak physical condition, just the effort of running here from the town hall had taken much of his stamina. Nevertheless he was adamant in his desire to protect his people. He may have failed them as their duly elected official, but he could at least try and atone for his mistakes.

A particularly loud burst of gunfire drew his gaze to the ramparts, reminding him that there was a reason he should be focusing on the battle rather than his state of health. Following the noise, he smiled weakly as he noticed the familiar figure of the guard captain as he bellowed out orders to the rest of the scattered and fearful militiamen, his rifle thundering as he unleashed salvo after salvo into the dark tide vying for purchase against the settlement's walls.

"Come on you bastards! I've got enough for all of ya!" The man snarled as his rifle split apart and transitioned smoothly into a sword that he used to swiftly disembowel a wolf-like monster attempting to surmount the staked divider.

"Captain Darius!"

The man turned and acknowledged his presence with an unsettlingly unconcerned grin.

"Salutations, Mr. Mayor. I'm glad you've decided to join us. Your presence is sure to inspire the lads!"

Ah… yes, he had almost forgot how… extravagant, the captain of the guard could be. However, currently the unusual force and unique manner of his personality was actually quite comforting to the Mayor given their immediate circumstances.

"How are we holding?" He asked, dreading the answer he would receive.

And judging from the resigned expression that briefly flashed upon the guard captain's weathered features, it was as he feared.

"The damned beasts are relentless. I've never seen them act like this before." A staccato of gunfire joined the cacophony as the man returned his weapon to its previous state and unloaded the last of his magazine into the dark tide below. "They'll be on the walls over long."

As if prophesied, the mayor's gut wrenched upon hearing wood splinter, daggered claws at last finding purchase enough to leap upwards. A massive beast soon swallowed his vision as it vaulted over the palisade, its furred form crashing aggressively into a handful of guards unfortunate enough to have been caught in its movement. The creature wasted nothing but its own impatience, its limbs swinging wildly as it savaged those unable to escape the reach of its enormous forelimbs. Fountains of blood splattered violently as it flayed the flesh from their bones, sending broken bodies sailing off the walls in either direction. They were but men, given little training and unprotected by the soul shields of true hunters. They had little chance against such a creature in close quarters.

He felt his stomach threaten to empty itself as he tried to ignore the inhuman screams of the monster's victims, whispering a prayer to the gods that their suffering would be swift.

It rose not long after, its height dwarfing even the statue of the last valian king in the town square. It was a sight ripped from humanity's collective nightmares, a beast that stood upon two legs like a man, its ebon fur drenched with the crimson lifeblood of those it had slain. Yet its bipedal stature was all it shared with the prey it hunted so relentlessly. It spared no thought, no remorse for its actions, built only to feed upon its intended targets, a biological machine born to serve only one function, one purpose.

Three distinct colors held dominance over its terrifying design, for nothing natural could possibly be so perfectly crafted for slaughter. Fur as dark as obsidian swathed its near bulletproof hide, sullied by congealed blood that matted its ferocious pelt, and what set it apart from any real animal, was the unsettlingly white plates of bone erupting from its flesh.

The Mayor could see its eyes, wild and yellow and bearing nothing but endless hate for all things mankind, sunken deep into the protruding skull plate that protected the feral brain inside its lupine pate.

The living weapon flung itself at him, its movements near impossible to discern amidst the unbelievable speed it possessed. Fear finally gave way to the desire for survival, the man throwing himself to the side to avoid the fatal claws of the abomination on its warpath. He remembered, even then, what little he had learned during his mandatory service in the militia, and swiped his sword upwards, catching the beast on its breastbone.

And he watched… in abject horror, as his rusted blade snapped uselessly upon its bone hardened partial carapace. Here he was to die for having neglected not only his duties as a mayor, but for ignoring the maintenance of his blade.

A slight sting of pain sliced across his side as the unbelievable length of its claws nicked him, a rather embarrassing groan of pain slipping past his lips as he dropped to the wooden gantry and cradled his torn flesh, attempting to keep the blood from spilling through his fingers.

A guttural growl tore into his thoughts, his brain experiencing the very primal fear reserved for when man encountered something so much higher up the food chain than himself. He was struck frozen, helpless to watch as the beast drew nearer, its jaws split apart in a feral rictus of pleasure, near enough to a smile if he had the presence of mind to dwell upon it. He could not decide what was worse, its existence, or that it was sentient enough to take satisfaction in its bloodshed.

Bloody drool leaked from its open maw, pearlescent canines as sharp as razor wire glistening with its ravenous appetite. The beast salivating as it contemplated its next meal with unnervingly attentive relish. At this distance he could smell death oozing from it, a nauseating array of odors, the coppery scent of blood and the foul stench of ruptured organs.

Yet in that moment, all the man could imagine were the children and families that would soon be gazing upon a similar sight, people he had known for years, people he was responsible for.

And for the briefest of instants, a death defying rage overcame him. He grabbed the handle of his broken blade and mustered his resolve through the pain of his injury, rising to meet this atrocity despite the fear that made his legs quiver. If this was to be his end, he would face it as a man, not a coward. He would fight, if only to buy those under his protection even a second more of life.

Sensing his defiance, the wolven beast roared, a sound incapable of reproduction from a true wolf, as it charged forwards, left paw reared back to deliver a thunderous and fatal left hook that would be sure to split his body in half.

He let loose with his own, relatively inferior snarl of defiance as he leaped to meet his intended murderer, feeling an odd sense of peace as it loomed above him.

A deafening barrage of gunfire shattered his calm and he watched in stupefaction as a fusillade of bullets holed the monstrous creature before him. Under such overwhelming firepower, even its reinforced protection stood little chance and he watched as the lupine abomination was perforated by close to a thousand rounds of ammunition.

The great beast released a gargled groan, its lungs pooling with blood as it sunk to its knees, unable to fight past the obscene damage it had incurred. It fell at last five seconds later, with finality that he had not thought he would ever live to witness.

The Mayor turned his head back to see who it was that had become his savior.

"Mighty brave of you, Sir." The Guard Captain smirked as he slipped a fresh magazine into his weapon. To either side of him were two dozen other men not from the militia, wielding a mix of weaponized farm tools and mismatched firearms. "I think I know who has my vote next election. Jorge Ramey can kiss my ass."

He chuckled, a peel of perhaps senseless laughter at his near death experience slipped out of him as he was helped to his feet, the sounds of battle growing louder as the defenses were bolstered by the new arrivals. Death had come closer than ever it had before, and yet, just how long was this to last? How soon before he gazed down another pair of maddened eyes?

"I have some men rigging the entrance to the underground shelter, a few charges ready to blow out the foundations of the church above it." The captain's smile was not as lively as it had been a moment ago. "Hopefully it won't come to that. But if it does, I'd like to hope the Grimm won't find them."

The mayor looked outwards, to the veritable sea of darkness lapping against their walls, hundreds could be seen, beowolves by the dozens, creeps without number, and a small pack of ursas scattered about the horde.

They couldn't hold, not against this.

"Your family will survive Darius." He looked to the other man, resting a hand upon his shoulder. "Now we just have to make sure we will too."

But that didn't mean they wouldn't try.

* * *

From what he found at the site of the smoke clouds, the guardian almost wished he hadn't decided to come here, fearing that he was far too late to be of any help to these people.

Leaving his sparrow to idle at the edge of the wooded fields a kilometer outside the town, he stepped off the machine, his boots crushing heated ash underfoot as he drew his longbow. He could feel the heat from the fires against the skin on his face, and the smell of conflagration was almost choking, even from this distance.

Walls made of wood burned well it would seem.

He knew not what desperation had possessed the defenders to put their own fortifications to the torch, but he could only imagine it had either occurred as an accident amidst the chaos of battle, or at the realization that they had little choice otherwise.

Yet it seemed the tactic was met with moderate success. There may have been a substantial horde laying siege, but for the moment there was a surreal peace haunting the field as the monsters patiently waited for their time to move.

All would end when the fires died.

Yet the flames still raged, keeping the beasts of darkness from climbing the burning battlements. That was, at least until it burned itself out. At which point the villagers would lose whatever protection they had surrendered. It must have been a hard decision to choose between a fight at the walls or a bid for time.

Fortunately, their efforts would not go unanswered.

The guardian took a knee at the edge of the clearing, gathering his preparedness while the beasts as of yet remained unaware his presence. But that was soon to change as he would see to. Unloading his quiver, he planted the thirty odd arrows he had carried, into the dirt beside him, heads down and fletching up, close enough to reach for and still maintain his aim.

 _This seems like a really bad idea._

"Duly noted." He grunted softly, notching his bow with the first shaft. Targets were plentiful, but his ammunition was not. He'd have to aim in accordance to priority, and hope he eliminated enough of the largest opposition before things got really… really ugly.

A calm exhale… and release.

The whistle of his arrow cutting through air was satisfying, watching it punch through an ursa's skull… even more so. The entire mentality of the horde shifted like a spinning dime on a countertop as the great bear collapsed with an inarticulate growl of confusion and pain.

There was a new threat, and he could almost see as their collective, remedial intellect attempted to recognize it.

He would not give them the chance.

His bow intoned its dirge of death as he yanked and fired his arrows in quick succession, each deadly missile finding purchase in the throats and skulls of the largest and most dangerous of the creatures before him.

Death was instantaneous.

Fifteen seconds passed before he expended the upturned contents of his quiver, fifteen seconds, and thirty-four very dead abominations. His efforts did little over all against the sheer plentitude of their numbers, but it was the quantity he sought to remove, but the quality.

Those that remained, in spite of their collective mass, were mostly inexperienced and newly formed, given the minimal armoring and smaller statures from those who had wandered the world long enough to assemble some form of sentience but little else. Of the creatures of Grimm, he perhaps knew more than most. This should be expected considering he had been combating their kind for centuries.

He knew intensely the futility upon waging war against an adversary literally without number; it was a war of the likes he had fought long before he came to be stranded upon this world. But it was not one he would ever give up fighting, not when there were those that had need of him.

His arrows expended, and his longbow functionally useless, he set the weapon aside as the tides of Grimm turned about communally to overcome this newest target. While the walls burned they had nothing but time, and something to utilize it upon, even their primitive cognition was aware enough to realize that.

As the fastest of their number approached in a swelling pack of bounding beasts, he unsheathed the small blade he kept at his side, palms to forearms lighting ablaze with golden energies that burned so brightly as to nearly outshine the sun itself, the conflagration rose steadily until it eclipsed his stature, encompassing the man within a shell of arcane fire. It was a sight of revealed power that slowed the advance of the rampaging Grimm, if but for a moment before their hardcoded desire to kill and rend overrode the portion of their rudimentary minds that controlled the fight or flight response.

As the handle of the small blade rested snug within his hand, his left curled closed around the spectral haft of a fiery hammer, and he shuddered upon the rush of vitality and power that now seethed through his veins. It had been so long since he need embrace The Traveler's gift, that for the swiftest of moments he was nearly overcome by the sensation, as if he had been born again unto the fires of battle, a reinvigorating sentiment that flickered briefly in the embered hollows of his soul. His very form was illuminant with celestial energies, and as the first Grimm charged to meet him it was beaten back by the harsh light that emanated from his physique.

The creep lurched away from him, its hide smoking simply from its close proximity as it stumbled to the dirt at his feet. It lived no longer than that, a small knife parsing its throat with practiced ease. The remainders of its pack leaped back from his glimmering aura that they could hardly bear to stand, circling around as they searched for a weakness to exploit, unwavering against the significant threat they now faced. Though they might feel fear, the creatures of Grimm did not retreat.

There were those, however, amongst the Grimm that did not mirror such abhorrence, a massive lupine monstrosity, its heavily plated form marking it as one of the few creatures present that had lived long enough to earn its right to alpha. The beowulf howled its dissent, more enraged than fearful of the aversion his mere presence enforced, as it swung a furred limb bulging with corded muscle and killing intent.

Where most might have balked at its incensed charge, the guardian rose to meet the challenge, a fearsome roar of rage rising from his lungs as he oscillated his celestial hammer, his voice amplified by his spirit and driven to near deafening volume by the make and manner of his resolve.

The two forces, hardened cranial bone plate and unyielding guardian power, met in a percussive thunderclap that sent a miniature shockwave roiling from the point of contact.

And one had been found wanting.

* * *

The mayor knew not what to believe when he heard the sounds of enraged Grimm snarl and bark outside the blazing walls of their small town. He would have liked to believed, to hope, it was because help had come. But logic dictated that hope as foolish. They had chosen to live out here to separate themselves from the crumbling and stiflingly oppressive nature of the kingdoms of man, content to live out the twilight of their species within their walls.

It could be said that the kingdoms and the settlements that existed without from their borders, did not often, if ever, see eye-to-eye. They had sent out their emergency beacon of course, the fear of death did still temper pride. Nevertheless no one expected an answer, other than a derisive communication about how they had been warned of the dangers.

And while their walls slowly burned to ash, granting the defenders even an hour more to breathe and live before they met their end at the clutches of the Grimm, the mayor wondered, however briefly, if the kingdoms had really been right.

Did they deserve this for trying to go against that which kept their species alive? Was this the brother gods showing them the folly of their ways?

He knew not, and he doubted he would live long enough to ever discover the truth.

Yet even as he contemplated his failings and mortality, he heard the cacophony of the Grimm grow only louder. For a moment he wished that he could have stood upon the walls to see what it was that caused them to stir so violently. But the flames were as an effective deterrent to them as the creatures that they had been meant to ward away.

"What in the bloody hells is going on out there?" Captain Darius demanded with a bewildered turn to his face, the man emulating a confusion found within the men and women of the militia readying their final stand at the village square. Carts and merchant stalls had been dragged and assembled to block street access, unused lumber and desperate craftsman had seen a smaller palisade born into creation to wall off their improvised fort.

The mayor moved to stand at the entrance to their makeshift gate, standing nervously as he tightened his grip around the blade he had taken from the corpse of a fallen farmhand. He strained his ears to hear beyond the muffling confines of the cluster of buildings around them and the crackling fire from the walls that burned.

It was then he heard a sound that filled him with unsure emotion, a deep boom that reverberated through the air and shook the ground at his feet, an explosion that could not have possibly been produced by Grimm. The noise was followed by everything he had learned recently to identify as battle, specifically combat between the Grimm and an outside force. Lights flashed from behind the walls, brief flares of golden imagery that always preceded a rise in the discordance of sound outside their town.

Valorous warcries followed the violent affair, issued not from a Grimm's throat, but that of a man, loud and defiant and inspiring. Hope, anticipation, belief, all of these things swelled inside him as he realized what he was hearing.

"Captain!"

"Already on it." The man declared as he shouldered his weapon, and with a curt gesture of his head, gathered a small squad of the more able militiamen to follow as he jogged down the street to the gates that still burned.

The mayor followed, perhaps out of the rush of elation he felt at their highly probably chance of survival. Though he convinced himself it was his duty to be present in any situation that would develop, no matter the outcome. Perhaps more he just wished to see who it was that come to their rescue.

A short jaunt through the streets set them at the gates to the village, burning as they were from the militia's attempt to keep the Grimm at bay. This close to the walls the sounds of battle were undeniable, a furious harmony of human spirit pitted against the soulless nature of their adversaries that could be heard despite the overwhelming crackle of the inferno.

Yet the sounds dwindled and anxiety rose. Unable to see past their walls, and wary of opening their gates to invite the Grimm inside, it was a choice to take the risk, or wait once more. The decision, was in actuality, simple to make. The walls would not stand forever, regardless of what they chose.

And from the newfound sense of bravery he seemed to have gained from this whole affair, he would rather go out fighting alongside those brave enough to risk their lives, than cower a minute more behind walls that were already burning around them.

"The gate…" He swallowed heavily, dragging his tongue across lips chaffed by the fire's omnipotent heat. "Open the gate."

Darius nodded firmly, appearing to perhaps imitate his resolve, and they watched and waited as a pair of men hurried through the flames and pulled the wooden gateway apart.

All those present tensed.

They waited, for the onrush of dark beasts to overwhelm them, they readied for battle, expecting the Grimm to seek out the opening they had made.

Yet in the apprehensive minutes that followed there was no action taken by the creatures of darkness. It was then that they realized the sounds outside had ceased completely, a dead silence but for the fires around them.

The mayor, readying his blade and resolve both, was the first to take the risk. The man stepped outside, eyes roving for any sign of the monstrous host that had waylaid their town, only to see the aftereffects of an enormous battle. Great swaths of upturned dirt had been torn from the ground, matched only by the massive strips of scorched earth that still seeped smoke from between the charred cracks. It was as if a god had lashed the outskirts of the village with a flaming whip. The devastation was unlike anything he had ever seen before in his life… apocalyptic.

No monsters in sight, he stepped out unto the broken fields and desolate farmland, trying to understand what he was witnessing before him. This kind of thing… that wasn't possible from mere men. There must have been a huntsman, though he did not see one. That was the only way he could see to rationalize… this.

There were no bodies. The grimm after all left no corpses to speak of once they were slain. No sign to speak of what happened here other than the proof written into the earth. He expected at least to find their savior, dead or alive they should be here. Yet there was no one. The Grimm had been slain, but their slayer had either been a ghost, or had departed for an unknown reason.

This confused him, as he could not understand why they would expend so much effort, but not bother to follow through, to even look for reward as huntsman often did. Nevertheless as he looked back to his town, one that despite all it had endured would get to survive that much longer. He felt gratitude for whoever it was that have them another chance.

If anything this was proof that perhaps they could not entirely make it on their own, at least not indefinitely. Maybe he should reconsider the offer he had been given, whether or not his community was interested.

It was time… he decided as he gazed upon the scattered flames and ravaged fields… to make a call.

* * *

 _You did good work today, Guardian._

"You can get out of my head now." He muttered in answer to the machine that soon appeared beside him, a tired sigh slipping past his lips as he returned his sparrow to its makeshift shed. Even in his bitterness he was glad of what he had done, he may not believe in the direction taken by this world's inhabitants, but that did not mean he would refrain from protecting them when they erred. It was his duty, more than that he had made a promise to someone, one where he would die before he broke it.

" _The Vanguard would be proud, An-"_

"DON'T…" He hissed, teeth barred and knuckles cracking from the tightness of his grip. Caught by the rage that had been inflamed by the ghost's intended words, he made an effort to calm himself before speaking again. "Don't say that name. It belongs to a dead man."

The little machine studied its guardian, the blue glow of its mono-eye flickering. _"Of course, Guardian. My apologies."_

"It is… it is alright." He sighed, calming the trembling of his hands and stepping out from the shed to enter his home. "That was a long time ago friend, I'd rather we not revisit that."

His companion did not respond, though it dutifully followed him into the cabin, floating across the living area and into the room it had taken for itself. He watched it go, a thin-lipped grimace upon his expression as he let another, longer winded sigh pass through his lungs.

He may have been a guardian, but he hardly ever seemed to act like one.

Approaching the fireplace, he moved his chair in front of the humble brickwork and sat down, his eyes lingering upon hands that had yet to stop shaking, what he knew was caused by something more than his anger.

Though he should not feel exhaustion, this was somewhat different, a soul aching deepness that seemed engraved within his bones, a lingering weakness that a titan should never feel, a pallor of coldness unsuited for one whose light once blazed like an untamed fire.

He was, in point of fact, tired.

He reached within his leather cuirass, pulling out the medallion underneath, the mere presence in his hands enough to calm their quavering. It was a simple thing, black steel plated with an engraving from his order. He gazed upon the pair of wolves, and their endless watch upon the world tree, a reminder of what he had lost, and what would never again come to be.

It has been… too many years.

He could see his reflection within the polished metal, silvered eyes that no longer shone with life and fervor, a face far too young for one so old. He wished, in that moment, for slumber, even if it meant the dreams would come back.

As long as it freed him from the agony of thought

* * *

Up high within an alabaster tower was a man who had a presence within the web of intrigue that spun across the surface of Remnant. His designs were ever shifting and his plans as immutable as the seasons.

It was then, as he sat preparing for the year ahead for the school upon which he based all of his influence and ability, that he received a call, or more rather a call from a call from a call, a trail of information that trickled to him from one of his many, many sources scattered about the kingdoms, both within and without.

A slight purse of his lips appeared as he ended the communication and waited for the package to upload. As his device pinged completion, that the requested material had been transferred, he opened the file and skimmed through, his slight turn of lips soon shifting into a very noticeable smile.

Moving a hand away from his scroll, he took a sip from the mug at his desk, the flavorful and oh so delicious taste of coco adding another layer sweetness to this unexpected present.

"How… interesting."

* * *

 _AN: So this crazy idea struck me while I was reading and listening to some fantastic music. I know its probably not my usual fair, but I am hoping that if I branch off a little, if I kind change the routine, that I might recover some inspiration for a lot of my other stuff. It might be working because I slammed this baby out in like two days. It may not be the next chapter for Legacy, or the other two stories I've been working on lately, but don't worry I am very much still working on them. I hope that you guys might like this, and if it takes off well enough I might upload another chapter pretty soon, because at the moment I've got a hankering for this particular tale._

 _Keep the faith!_


	2. To Live in Interesting Times

Chapter 2: To Live in Interesting Times

He could tell by morning, and the crook in his back, that he had again fallen asleep on his chair. It was a habit, if not a good one, that he had taken to in the past few days after the Grimm assault on the village. Something, though he could not tell what, had changed. He had been plagued by an unfamiliar sense of restlessness that he had not felt for more than eighty years. This was unusual, considering life for the guardian continued mostly as usual. He hunted game for most of the day and had prepared to draw plans for a new shed when he was in the mood. And each and every day he wondered why it was he felt this inexplicable agitation.

His ghost however, remained quiet. Its penchant for inane chatter had been dulled as of late, and he rarely if ever heard its usual attempts to humor him. This was fine, considering he had no deign to be humored in the first place, but his guilt only festered as he knew this silence was because of him.

But he tried not to give it too much thought. This was not the first time he and his companion had a conflict of personality. Most guardians got along well enough with their ghosts. He and his ghost? They were the exception, not the rule. This had not always been however. Its infancy had been lain in the beginning years, after they had arrived on this world to find that there simply was no way back to the life they once knew.

His ghost insisted on remaining positive.

He did not.

Thus, they fought.

That did not mean he hated the machine, or even that it did not consider them friends. They had been together far too long for that, had fought to preserve The Traveler's light for an eon. When the fallen houses rallied for war, they held the line, When the Black Garden grew in power they had spearheaded the assault. When the past of the Iron Lords came back to haunt them, they prevented the next collapse. When Gaul and his red legion had invaded the Last City to steal their light, they smote the would be god upon the ramparts of his own warship, after a long campaign to retake the city. And when they had been stranded upon this world, they fought against the darkness of the Grimm for centuries while primitive man struggled to gain its footing. They were tied forever in perpetual eternity, and a companionship like that would not be broken by ill-sentiment.

It was just another in a series of bad days.

They would endure.

They always had.

The guardian, having lingered at the fireplace long after the last vestige of heat had faded from the ashes, rose from his seat and slipped outside. There was a small garden to the side of his cabin, symmetrical to the shed opposite.

The garden itself was not much, enough fruits and vegetables to sustain one person. But the field of flowers was enormous, cultivated for their color and beauty, bright red roses and yellow daises, those most prominent amidst the vibrant hues. He had planted one for every year spent on this world, a beautiful reminder of something that tormented him incessantly. When he looked upon the field he felt a sense of peace that was hard to find in recent days. It reminded him that there was meaning beyond the role he had lost the day they arrived upon this world. He may no longer fulfill the duties assigned to him by his god, but that did not mean he was without purpose. And while he may at times shunt his anger upon this planet that entrapped him, he was reminded of the splendor this world still held.

It was not Earth, and it would never be home.

But he would not be disappointed to die here.

" _It really has been a long time… hasn't it?"_

He turned, his ghost resting just above his shoulder as it admired the field alongside him. A machine it may be, but he knew sure enough that there was a soul inside that metal chassis. Whether his companion was made of metal or flesh mattered not to him. He may be immortal, but if not for the annoying ball of positivity, he would have wasted away on this backwater world.

He nodded, a wry smile washing away the lasting grimace he had been wearing since they returned. "How many days?"

" _326,670."_ It replied with a cheerful promptness. _"That's 895 of your birthdays that have gone uncelebrated."_

"Yeah well… not much to celebrate nowadays, is there?" He answered with a slightly amused chuckle.

" _No. I guess not."_

His grin widened as he kneeled down and brushed a thumb across a flower with effervescent lavender petals.

"Are we straight?"

" _As an arrow, Guardian."_

He nodded to himself, his smile lessening but not fading completely as he moved to stand. "You were right, Ghost. We did do good work. It's been… a while since we could say that."

" _I usually am."_ The machine tittered, twisting happily through the air beside him. _"That's why we work. You're the brawn and I'm the brain."_

"Starting to regret complimenting you."

" _Ah, I think I need to run some calibrations on the Gjallarwing."_ It whisked itself away, though he doubted it would be running any sort of diagnostics any time soon.

He laughed.

Yes.

There certainly was still reason to endure.

* * *

Qrow, was at that moment, a very unamused hunter. After a night of heavy drinking the last thing he wanted was to receive a vague text from Oz in the early hours of the morning, telling him that he needed to head off to some frontier town in the ass end of nowhere, to investigate a peculiarity, one by the by, he had not received any information on other than an ambiguous reference to some old fairytale.

The only reason he had even bothered to do as he asked, despite his rude awakening and an aggressive hangover, was that he had learned from experience that fairytales on Remnant tended to be very much real.

That, however, did not stop him from sending a very… very eloquently worded text back to that oftentimes insufferable silver haired eccentric. Inebriation aside, the man was confident he had gotten his intent across

"Hah… let the bastard stew on that for a while." He muttered under his breath as he ripped his scythe from the skull of a vanishing beringel. The beast collapsed with a pathetic groan, unsurprising considering its brain had just been quarried by the blade of his weapon.

Flicking dwindling droplets of Grimm blood from his scythe with a twirl of his fingers, he stepped off its neck and disassembled his weapon, returning it to the hook on his lower back as he watched the once towering creature wisp away on the breeze.

"Not even a challenge anymore." He sighed, reaching into his cloak for the welcomed presence of his flask. The harsh, but warm burn of alcohol in the back of his throat was the push he needed to force himself back on the road.

Though he would not admit it, especially not to the pompous ass currently brooding atop his tower like some bargain bin supervillain, he did enjoy these assignments, if only because they gave him an excuse to stay away from the kingdoms for a little while. Given his… unique trait, he'd conditioned himself to actually like traveling, crazy as that made him.

This particular task had him wandering the dirt paths between settlements for the last week, and it was only today that he would finally arrive at the place he needed to be. Qrow would have liked to reread the text Oz sent him, if that would have done him any good. The man's assignments were as unclear as they were often infuriating.

All he had to work with was the mention of some old folktale, harkening back to the advent of dust, when both humanity and the faunus lived in greater fear of the creatures of Grimm. There were references, even more ambiguous than what Oz had already given him, about a mythical figure of the times, a sort of demigod-like individual.

Qrow had absolutely no idea how a connection could be made between an ancient story and a Grimm attack upon a frontier settlement. But he realized, with a weary sigh, that he wasn't supposed to it. It was just his job to gather evidence to rely back to his boss.

There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to help him cope with all this bullshit.

But, he decided as he took a swig of his flask, he could certainly make a start of it.

Thoughts lingering towards the pleasures of drinking ones problems away, he arrived at the settlement in question with little problem from the local Grimm. The villagers really should thank him. It wasn't often that huntsman worked for free. A refill of his flask would definitely go a long way in showing their appreciation.

But as he stepped out from the edge of the clearing that had been made by the locals, he frowned as he realized that he would probably not be getting more booze, which was exceedingly unfortunate, because by the looks of things, he'd need it.

"Well I'll be damned." He muttered in disbelief as he took in the abysmal state of the lands outside the small town. Qrow had seen his fair share of combat in his time, and he had quite the eye for discerning details from a battlefield, a trait that had developed in his younger days. What he saw before him now could certainly be considered unusual.

It was a given that huntsman could inflict some serious property damage when they were on the job. There was also a reason that the kingdoms grew anxious whenever that work took them to the cities. Naturally, these two issues were related.

But it had been a quite a long time since he last saw a battlefield quite like the one he found before him. This… this was the kind of stuff that happened when Oz's four little projects were caught wandering around.

Now he could see why the Oz man was so interested in this development. As far as Qrow knew, all four of the Headmaster's concerns were accounted for, or at the very least, given a generalized location.

The huntsman sighed as he put his flask away. Unfortunately he had a feeling he wouldn't be drinking for a while. Navigating the patches of ruptured earth and scorched fields, he made his way towards the village itself, taking note that the walls had burned, presumably as the result of an accident. Either way this town was lucky to be alive, or rather, Qrow mused as he gazed at his surroundings, luck had nothing to do with it.

His approach was met not soon after he stepped onto the road to what he could only presume had been the main gate, a handful of men that looked about just as worse for wear as the village itself, stopped him before he could properly step inside.

Not willing to go through the whole _'who goes there routine,'_ he flashed his huntsman badge before the inane questions started.

Their response was as humorous as it was instantaneous.

"Thank the brother gods." A rather tall, if somewhat portly man exhaled heavily in relief as he lowered the blade in his hand, not that Qrow had felt threatened in the slightest. "I wasn't sure they'd bother sending help."

"Sorry guy, I'm not the help, just the investigator." He flicked a thumb over his shoulder, as if they could see what he was pointing at. "The real help should come in sometime tomorrow. A second year team from Beacon will be keeping the peace until you're back on your feet."

A wide range of expressions passed across the man's features, though he smiled anyways. "At this point I'll be glad to take whatever help Vale offers. Until then, how can I be of help to you, huntsman?"

Qrow raised a brow.

The man gestured to himself indicatively. "Right, Introductions. I'm Roy Liam, the Mayor of this mess."

"Then you're just the man I'm looking for." The huntsman grinned. "And boy do I have questions."

* * *

The mayor took him to the bar to handle the impending questioning, by Qrow's insistence. Though most of the liquor had been used to set the walls ablaze, much to the man's disappointment once he learned this, there was still a bottle or two of beer left for him to brood over as he listened to the mayor recount his tale.

And by the gods what a story it was.

At first he'd thought what the Mayor thought, that a wandering huntsman or huntsmen had taken care of their problem. But it didn't take him long to doubt that theory. Most hunters were glory hounds, eager to earn credit. That was neither inherently good nor bad, just the way the business worked. More recognition meant more jobs. More jobs meant more opportunities to earn a reputation. Both together would mean more money.

It was an unpleasant necessity of the occupation. The kingdoms only had a limited budget to spend on their respective huntsman, and most of that was funneled into the training academies. The rest hardly paid for the maintenance of their equipment, ammunition, or the cost of travel.

The job actually didn't pay that well, hence why they took commissions for their service.

So he could easily believe that a huntsman would step in to prevent the slaughter of a small town. He just couldn't believe that they had not wanted at the very least to be acknowledged for their effort. That was basic hunter 101.

So, either they had been saved by some inexplicable act of providence, which was… seriously, highly unlikely. Otherwise, the more logical conclusion, whoever it was genuinely had no desire for gratitude… or they didn't want to attract any attention to themselves.

But all this speculation was moot anyways. What he had seen out there was indicative of exactly what Oz had been so interested in. Considering how deeply he worked within the other man's confidence, he was privy to information most people would never know. And while any other huntsman might believe that their fellows could be responsible for that mess outside. Qrow had firsthand experience with certain individuals that could make just the kind of chaos.

And from what he knew they definitely were not huntsman.

Qrow sighed, brushing a hand through his unkempt hair as he thanked the mayor, and after reassuring him that further help would still be coming, he left the bar. Outside, the man pulled his scroll out from his jacket and made the call.

The device hardly finished connecting him before he was answered.

" _Is it a positive?"_ The voice on the other end asked with the faintest hint of excitement.

"Yeah… I think we might be close to finding Prometheus." Even on a secure line, Oz was paranoid of information breeches, which is why he was always forced to use all these stupid code words.

Thankfully, he shared the man's paranoia.

There was a pause on Oz's end.

" _Find them. If we can recover the location of Prometheus, what that could do for our war with the pale queen…"_

"Yeah I know." He muttered. "I'll get on it. Even a fairytale can leave a trail to follow. Don't worry boss, I'll find them."

" _Excellent. Then I'll head out on the first bullhead."_

Now this was a surprise. It was a rare time when Oz left the unending machinations of his headquarters. "Really?"

" _Indeed, something like this needs a personal touch I think. Do you think you can find them before I arrive?"_

Qrow chuckled. "Is that challenge?"

" _Thirty lien says it might."_

"Heh, I'll take you up on that."

Qrow ended the call, putting his scroll away as he meandered out of the town amidst its reconstruction. Once out on the field, he took another thorough examination of the battlefield, possessing a low grin despite the work left ahead of him.

"Right then…" He hummed thoughtfully.

"How does one find a god?"

* * *

The cabin, for the first time in a very long time, possessed a modicum of pleasantness. The living area was both lit and warmed by the soft crackle of flames originating from the fireplace. And the air, usually quiet and morose, was livened by the faint atmosphere of music belonging to a world far away from this one, courtesy of Ghost and his immense memory storage capacity.

The guardian himself lingered inside the kitchen, tending to the wood fire stove and the venison stew currently boiling inside a cast iron pot, as he listened with an amused air of nostalgia. He had not been born into the period the music came from, although it did remind him somewhat of his first life, and for that he was somewhat peculiar for a guardian. Though not unusual, he had been taken from a time period long before even the creation of what most considered to be the symbols of modern technology. And perhaps that was why he so easily enjoyed his rural life.

It was, in matter of fact, quite close to the way he used to live. The only real difference was that he shared his quarters with a floating machine that would have been considered a godly prophet in his own time. He himself had changed much since then. The wonders of technology had ceased to be as impressive, and he became more learned than perhaps even the greatest scholars of the classical period, if not any other.

His circumstance had made for a very confusing and terrifyingly disorientating initiation into the strife of new Earth. It was fortunate that he had experience and training to fallback to during those initial days. Acclimating to the vast advances in weaponry, however, had been an unusual task to say the least. And he was still somewhat fond of what most guardians would consider an unusual approach to combat.

While he mused, the aroma emanating from the pot below him reminded the man of his current predicament. He took a moment to recollect himself, portioning the stew into a hand carved bowl that he took to the small table situated at the center of the equally small kitchenette.

" _Remind you of home does it, Guardian?"_

He nodded to the machine that had been, until that moment, studying a particular art piece hanging on the nearby wall. He had of course picked up more hobbies than carpentry and gardening in the many years of his isolation. He could paint, though it was more traditional than perhaps the modern drivel one might find nowadays. He was particularly fond of landscapes and historical recreations of battles he had contributed to in the life he lived before he became a warrior for The Traveler. It was a reminder of his past, in the hopes he would not forget.

"The Battle of Ticinum, circa 271, a fine victory for the Empire." He offered in explanation as he sampled the stew with a fond smile of remembrance. Just enough salt, with just a dash of spice to give it an extra kick, perhaps not the best he had made, but good nonetheless.

Thoughts wandering away from the quality of his meal, the guardian recalled his first taste of combat, and the closest he had ever come to his end before his first true death. Since then he had died many times, mostly during his earliest experiences as a guardian. The first… had been a disturbing perplexity and often still gave him nightmares when he slept, eliciting the phantom sensation of a fallen captain's sword punching through his armor, and the chilling coldness that followed as it laughed and snarled in Eliksni. It was also the first and last time he felt true fear as a guardian.

Finding himself not minutes later gasping on the floor of the room adjacent, clutching the nonexistent chest wound on his torso as his ghost tried to calm him down, was something else he would never forget. Ever since that day he only trained harder after every failure, struggling to never again experience that sense of crushing despair and wild panic.

And eventually… he stopped failing.

He fought and triumphed against his foes. He had slain the Sol Progeny during his assault on the Black garden. Skolas and Aksis fell respectively at his hand, each victory secured without a loss. Even Gaul had tried and failed to kill him. For the longest time he had honed his powers and skill, centuries of disciplined instruction and relentless exercise, driven by the desire to never again be so weak, to fail in the one duty that had given his life purpose amidst the depthless infinity of his existence.

Every day saw him attain new heights of power.

And then he had been struck down, left broken and abandoned in a place that would be the herald of his final death. The light of The Traveler was nothing but an ethereal presence on this world, the protector of mankind separated from him by an incalculable distance. His powers remained in all their fury, but Ghost lacked the connection with their god necessary to give his life its perpetuity. Age would not steal him away, and his regenerative capacity and centuries of skill would make combat a near insurmountable task to bring him down. But for once time was not his ally. He would fall, whether by his own hand or a thoughtless mistake on the field.

And there would be no coming back that time.

Needless to say, at first that had been a hard concept to understand.

Yet he had a long time to come to grips with this knowledge. And in the end he accepted this, with a sentiment that was virtually gratitude. He had lived for a time beyond conception for mortal man. The thought of it all coming to an end no longer brought the fear that had compelled him so relentlessly.

But he would not make it easy.

If something wanted him dead it would have to fight to take him.

And he had shown countless thousands since coming to this world that he would not go quietly.

" _Guardian, your food is cold."_

He looked to his bowl, the stew long since cooled as he mused on the weight of his past. And he shrugged, before taking his spoon to it. Cold or hot, it would taste just as good.

" _You were thinking about… that again, weren't you?"_

He nodded, seeing no reason to lie. They had lived together too long for him to be able to deceive his companion, at least without significant effort.

The hovering machine did not offer a response, turning instead to study the painting once more in blatant disregard. While the topic held no worry for him, his ghost did not like it mentioned or even thought about. But the guardian knew it would happen one day, and his only worry lay in wondering what the little light shard would do in his absence.

He had been created to serve the light. His ghost had been created to help keep him alive. What does a machine do when it no longer has a purpose? He would like to believe that it would find its own; after all it was far more than a simple computer. It had complex thought and emotion, which essentially made it human in his eyes.

Whatever happened to him, he would just have to believe Ghost would continue on.

" _Guardian…"_

He looked up from his empty bowl, noticing that the spherical chassis of his companion had stopped its unrelenting shifting, its gaze focused now upon the window and what it was seeing outside.

" _We might have a problem."_

He followed the shard's gaze, and felt a frown beginning to form.

* * *

Qrow allowed himself a rather indulgent, smugly satisfied grin as he walked into the clearing, studying the quaint little cabin built at its center. It would have be a nice, unassuming place, if not for its location deep within the forever fall. Life out here would be impossible with the constant threat of Grimm, at least it would be for a human.

 _Looks like you owe me thirty lien, Oz._

Taking his gaze away from the picturesque ideal of middle-aged living, he took time to notice the other amenities the home provided, curious as to what an ancient demigod did in their spare time.

"Oum, that's a lot of flowers." He remarked in surprise as he took in the vast field of blossoms to the right of the small structure. Walking across the yard, he stopped to admire what must have taken supreme dedication to grow. He thought, for a moment, about taking one or two for his nieces, but before he could further consider the idea he heard wood strike wood as the front door of the cabin opened behind him.

He felt, and hated, the instinctive unease that crawled down his spine as he turned around. He was a veteran huntsman with years of experience and was perhaps, if not to brag too much, one of the strongest to have ever lived. But none of that would mean anything if he had found who he thought he had.

"Morning!" He called out pleasantly, disguising his brief confusion at the figure that stepped out from the house. His appearance, for it was a man that now approached him, was strikingly youthful, and Qrow felt the beginnings of uncertainty as he looked to the stranger.

Was this what gods looked like nowadays?

Sure, his olive-tan complexation was somewhat unusual to see in vale. Most people of this kingdom were pale of skin. And the color of his hair was rather… tame in comparison to the technicolor sideshow usually found in kids with which he at least shared visual similarities with. The style too was unassuming, a dark brown, regimental cut one might find amongst the altesians, complimented by finely trimmed facial hair.

Over all the man gave appearance to someone barely into their twenties.

But then he saw the eyes and everything changed.

He looked into those dull _silver_ orbs and somehow just knew instantly that he was not looking at a kid. There was an… agelessness to his gaze that Qrow had never seen before. He looked to those eyes and saw a man who had walked the surface of Remnant for a very… very long time. Not even to bring into mention the color of his eyes, something Ozpin would no doubt have a cow over.

"Morning…" The other man replied with caution, his eyes roving across the tree line, as if expecting more company.

Qrow noticed then his form fitting leather armor and the small knife sheathed at his side. Other than that and the longbow slung across his left shoulder, he was remarkably weaponless. Again he was surprised by the rather primitive nature of his armaments. From the information contained within the story, or rather ancient text he now supposed since it appeared the person of their interest was very real, reports indicated a suit of armor and weaponry unalike anything seen before on Remnant of the time, nor since.

"What brings a stranger to my lands this day?" He asked, his hand lowering a fraction from his blade when he realized no one else was coming, at least for the moment.

Qrow froze, suddenly realizing that he had not really thought on what he would do once he found what he was looking for. Honestly, a part of him was confident this would all turn out to be a wild goose chase. Well, when worst came to worst, just tell the truth, that's what Oz always said.

"I'm looking for someone." He replied, only to tense when he saw the man instantly drop his hand back onto his blade, visibly tensing at his response.

 _Shit, or did he say to always lie?_

"Whatever or whoever you're looking for; you won't find it or them here." The other man warned, his tone of someone entirely unamused.

Qrow let a nervous laugh out as he brought an arm to the back of his neck, feigning the need to scratch. "Sorry to bother you, stranger, but I could have sworn they were around here somewhere." He explained as he activated the hidden emergency responder attached to his necklace.

 _Oz better get here quick._

He then watched in fascination as the stranger's expression flickered into open anger. "You've just activated a responder." Faster than even he could perceive, the man was suddenly armed with his blade, the noise of it unsheathing only now hitting Qrow's ears when the weapon was brandished threateningly. "Who are you really, and what do you want with me?"

 _Scratch that, Oz better run his lazy ass down here._

The huntsman sighed, deciding to just drop all pretenses. Considering who exactly it was he thought he was talking to, he probably shouldn't have expected any deception to work in the first place.

"Look kid, I know what you are." As he spoke, Qrow made certain to carefully examine the expression of the person across from him, readying himself for whatever direction it might take. Though he was concerned that if it came to a fight, it might not end how he hoped it would.

Yet in all his predictions, he never would have expected what happened two minutes after he revealed his intent.

"Heh, Kid you say." The living legend snorted in amusement as he slowly sheathed his knife, somehow the small weapon appearing infinitely more dangerous when wielded in the hands of the one who currently held it. "Whatever you think you know… _kid_." He grunted derisively. "I guarantee you don't know the half of, or even a quarter."

The man in front of Qrow sighed, turning away from him and heading back towards his cabin, gesturing over his shoulder for the huntsman to follow.

"Come on in then, I just put a stew on the fire."

Qrow stood in place for several moments, visibly bewildered as he tried to understand what it was that just happened.

"What?"

* * *

 _AN: I'm still riding the motivational wave for this story it seems. I've been focusing so much on one angle that it feels somewhat liberating to be working on what is to me, a fresh idea. I hope everyone is liking this story so far, and I at least think its pretty interesting. I don't know much about RWBY, I've only ever really seen the first episode so far, and most of my insight comes from the extensive Wikipedia articles for it. Though I do know quite a bit about Destiny. So hopefully I'm nailing characters properly. In any case, aside from the usual grammatical disclaimer, I hope you guys are enjoying this story and of course reviews are appreciated._

 _Keep the faith!_


	3. Ours is the Legacy

Chapter 3: Ours is the Legacy

"You are among a privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy. Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to…"

The guardian ignored the rest of the automated welcoming speech, having no desire to pay attention to the rehearsed nonsense fed to the young and uninitiated, instead brushing a thumb across his hunting knife to test the sharpness of the blade as he glanced out the window from his leaned posture beside the glass. Outside he could see the sprawling municipality of Vale below him, the architecture a strange blend of cultural influences that reminded him of old English settlement from Earth, much like the ruins he had visited in his travels across the desolation left in the wake of the collapse. He had not seen the city in over ninety years, and it seemed as if things had remained largely untouched. Off all that time no visible progress had been made, the walls had not expanded and the population remained stifled by the confines of the city that sheltered them from the darkness that lingered past their steel palisades. Stagnation appeared to be a collective quality of the human spirit.

But he supposed in that way it did remind him of home.

" _I know what you are."_

" _I know the truth you so dearly wished kept secret."_

He grimaced, dragging the bottom of his thumb across the edge of his blade. Flesh split with disquieting ease as he used the pain of the self-inflicted wound to keep him landed, to prevent him from lingering on the impudence of that annoying man that called himself the headmaster of this school. In that moment he wished that he had driven off that annoying drunkard and the problems he would bring to his door. But he knew that would not have prevented anything, as much as he would have liked to believe it would.

" _I know what you have done."_

The blade bit deeper, gouging bone as his lips peeled back into a snarl of rage that was only just contained by his immense discipline. If not for his current location amidst so many students, he might have vocally expressed his irritation. Ozpin insulted him with the position he offered.

" _You owe a debt to mankind that I would like to see fulfilled."_

His thumb had been riven from tip to palm, the rush of blood from his torn flesh soaking into the cloth in the hand he left unmutilated.

It was not working.

Pain didn't mean anything to him anymore, except to allow him to recognize when his body had been damaged. It was at most a fleeting deterrent, before he instinctively disassociated himself from the sensation.

"A debt…" He muttered in disgust. If the headmaster of this school really did know as much as he claimed, then the bastard would know just how much he had sacrificed to protect the people of this world from the mistake he had made.

Once he had owed the humans of this world a debt.

But he had paid that in full ten times over.

 _Guardian… he is not entirely wrong._

The man sighed, all of his hate and rage departing him as he stashed away the blood soaked rag and took in the sight of unblemished skin. That was perhaps the root of his misplaced rage. In a way he was responsible for a great deal of the inflictions that plagued the people of this world, His inaction was as much a crime as if he had committed the deed himself. Titans were naturally prideful, it was as much a part of their ethos as the quest for eldritch knowledge was for a warlock.

Professor Ozpin was a man much smarter than he appeared to be.

"I wonder who we're gonna meet! I just hope they're better than Vomit Boy. Oh, Yang, gross! You have puke on your shoe!"

He glanced away from the approaching site of Beacon Academy, studying the rather… energetic individuals that conversed animatedly with each other about five yards from his current position. They didn't seem all that important, at least the one that zig zagged back and forth around her sister, red hood flapping wildly in the wind she generated with her rapid movements. If not for her eyes she would have been the spitting image of any spirited adolescent.

The sight of the young girl speaking so dynamically, as amusing as it was to observe, reminded him of the conversation that had dropped this mess in his lap, only because it had not been conducted with nearly as much enthusiasm.

* * *

"I know what you are."

The guardian examined the strange man sitting across the table from him. He didn't appear overly conspicuous, moderately tall and dressed like a teacher or middling-aged professor, and that was perhaps his greatest strength. For the person sitting at his table was far more than he appeared to be. He had been able to tell as much the moment he stepped off the small airship that landed in the field in front of his home, disrupting the quiet he had struggled so hard to maintain. And he had known then that something had changed, the world was once again set in motion, and this time he would not be able to stand on the side lines.

Here was someone with an objective; plans weaved within plans, an omnipotent web of intrigue that sought to change the face of Remnant forever, carrying dedication and resolve not seen since the days of the last valian king.

And there was nothing more dangerous than a man with the motivation to change the world.

He knew this from experience.

Which was why the guardian believed that this man knew exactly what he was, just who it was he spoke to. It was the eyes that made this assertion more concrete than speculation; they were nearly as old as the ones he saw when he looked into the mirror.

"What is it you want with me?" He asked, eyeing the other man that stood off to the side of his companion. The drunk was much like his friend, exuding an aura meant to deceive others from discerning their true intent. These figures were far more than they appeared to be, and it would be wise to take caution.

Together, if they so desired, they could very well be a legitimate threat, granted if they cooperated. Yet the guardian figured that they would not have gone through all this effort if they simply wanted to kill him.

No.

What they wanted would no doubt be worse.

"What I desire is very simple." Said the man that introduced himself as Ozpin, the headmaster of a prestigious school that had trained the next generation of huntsman for many cycles. "I would like to request that you once again contribute to the salvation of mankind… oh and the faunus of course." He added with a small laugh. "Nowadays people seem to favor divisive thought."

The guardian snorted, pushing away his bowl of food as he leaned into the back of his chair, his boots kicked up onto the table. "I've already done what I can for your people. If they insist on withering away behind the perceived _safety_ of their walls, then there's nothing else I can do for them. They've made their choice. And they'll face the consequences of their actions."

The headmaster thoughtfully tapped his cane against the floor. "Not everyone has given up like you think they have, or even as you've seemed to. The older hunters and civilians may be stuck in their ways. But hope still lives inside the youths of this world."

At that the guardian chuckled. "Children? You would trust the fate of this world to kids barely able to tell which end of the sword to swing?"

"No." The man refuted with a shake of his head, almost as if disappointed with the guardian's response. "I would trust the fate of this world with the one that had first saved it, to someone that could help guide and inspire those you might call children."

If he was uninterested in the man's spiel before, he was openly opposed now.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Headmaster. What you're looking for, I can't give you." He had sought isolation for a reason. He had caused enough damage already. The last thing he wanted was to be put in a position to make another mistake.

"Oh but, Sir." Ozpin curled his lips into a pleased smile. "That is where I believe you are wrong."

* * *

Stepping off the airship and onto the main road of that man's academy, the guardian had no choice but to admit that the bastard had been right. If anything, Ozpin could be surprisingly persuasive when he put his mind to it, though that may have been because, as all children tend to, he had played the blame game.

 _Oh it won't be so bad, Guardian. Just think of this as an opportunity to experience the wonders of the higher system of education._

As usual, his ghost insisted on putting a positive spin on a bad situation. Though, this time he was somewhat correct. Back in his first life he had not been afforded the opportunity to have a formal education. He had only been taught what he needed to survive in the legion. As a guardian he had faced a similar situation. His tutelage had been more the course for a trial by fire, where death was only a learning tool, and not a permanent state of being.

However he was probably somewhat overqualified for whatever courses they might have here. Then again the guardian supposed that was not important, since he had not been inducted into this school to learn history or to become a better warrior. He had been sent by the headmaster to ingratiate himself with the newest class of huntsman and huntresses who would be graduating from this institution in the next four years. And while he was here, he was to watch over those who Ozpin was particularly invested in.

An explosion broke the concentration of his inner musing, and the guardian turned to look upon the two students currently bickering with each other as a haze of fire and ice dust drifted away on the breeze, the familiar red hood and bubbly personality marking at least one of them as a person of interest. However he did not recognize the other, although perhaps he should have considering her very unusual appearance.

That was a lot white for one person to wear.

Seeing that there would be no physical confrontation, the guardian turned away, intending to find the assembly hall before the headmaster would give his speech. The man paused, wondering at such an unusual thought. The morning before had started off so well, just another day to while away in isolation, and yet here he was on the morrow, aiming to spend four years at a learning institution that could not teach him anything. Had he been mortal, he might have been annoyed to waste so much time.

Now he just hoped it might be more interesting than the last four.

As he stood there contemplating such an absurdity, he noticed the lack of conversation coming from his rear. Turning his head over his shoulder he was somewhat alarmed to see the girl now lying on the floor in the middle of the cobbled path.

 _Well come on then, don't just leave her there._

Sighing at his ill-fortune, the guardian composed himself and made to approach her, waiving away the tall blonde boy that appeared to possess the same idea. Nodding uncertainly, the student departed, no doubt with the intent to find where the rest of their ilk would be congregating.

Now alone with the unusual girl, he stood at a good distance away and made himself known. "Is everything alright, Miss?" He inquired with a hand offered in assistance.

With his shadow shading over her closed eyes, the girl opened them to gaze up at the man that towered above her. "Oh hello there!" She greeted him cheerily, if somewhat awkward in her utterance. For her current predicament, she appeared remarkably upbeat, unusual, but preferable to the bemoaning associated with young ages. Just because he was to work with children, did not mean he would easily tolerate their conduct.

The young girl taking the offered hand, he lifted her to her feet, the totality of her height barely reaching his pectorals as she craned her neck up to match his bemused stare.

"Thanks for the help up."

He nodded succinctly, releasing her hand and taking a marginal step back to keep a distance between himself and the apparently accident prone individual before him. Death held no fear for him, but he would have been mortified to be killed in a juvenile mishap. He held little honor left as a guardian and he did not intend for his demise to strip what it was he still possessed

"Think nothing of it. It was not particularly overly strenuous."

She giggled.

"You talk kinda funny."

"My… apologies?" He asked uncertainly.

He had not expected it, but his response seemed to push her over the fence from youthfully energetic, to energetically apologetic.

"Oh I didn't mean anything by it. I should be the one my apologizing. Ah jeez Yang is gonna kill me. First time someone helps me and I make fun of the way they talk. She was right I'm such a no brained klutz sometimes. This is why I have a hard time making friends. And Yang, she just left me here all alone, my own sister! And now I've exploded, made a princess angry, and I was mean to the nice guy that's… still standing right here… listening to everything I've been saying." She groaned loudly, smacking her forehead with an open palm.

The guardian took another cautious step backwards.

In all his years he had never encountered someone so… excitable.

"Think nothing of it Miss..."

The girl smacked her forehead again, apparently impervious or ignorant of self-inflicted pain.

"Oh right, my name's Ruby, Ruby Rose. What's yours?"

"Cassiel Aurelius." He answered with a curt bow, watching in slight amusement, as she visibly suppressed the desire to make note of his unusual title. He would have honestly been surprised if she thought nothing of it, considering it was a fabrication concerning ancient Christian faith and roman nomenclature, a religion and culture that had never existed upon this world before his arrival.

As far as he was aware his name did not fit into the bizarre color patterned terminology linked with their strange customs.

Not that he cared.

"That's a… nice name." She offered hesitantly, clearly attempting to make up for her recent blunder.

Not wishing to exasperate the situation any further than it already had been, he simply offered her a polite, if compulsory nod, and gestured for her to follow. It was probably for the best if he escorted her to the auditorium, lest she suddenly ignite in another detonation. She seemed like the type that might actually benefit from constant supervision, and seeing as that was quite literally the context of his assignment, he should probably get used to it sooner rather than later.

Not that it would have been much of a hassle in the first place as he had committed the entirety of the school's blueprints to memory, even the underground levels not included in the official draft. Ghost had been particularly helpful in that regard. And he would admit to some satisfaction at getting one up on that manipulator Ozpin.

Noticing his gesture for what it was, the young woman smiled and appeared to…. vibrate in place. "OOOHHH, DOES THAT MEAN WE'RE FRIENDS NOW?!"

The volume of her question caught him off-guard, and it was only involuntarily by this astonishment that he nodded once more in assent.

The height of the decibels she reached in that moment nearly rattled the bones in his chest.

Some minutes passed before the ringing stopped, and by then she was already poised to assault him with more questions.

The guardian was beginning to question the validity of his mission. The headmaster should count himself fortunate that he still put stock in the quality and legitimacy of his word, or he just may have jumped from the cliff and taken his chances in the emerald forest.

The Grimm were not as irksome as a child could be.

"Hey, Cassiel, wanna see my weapon?"

Before he could even procure a response she had already flicked the crimson device out from behind her back, the jangle of shifting plates and mechanisms filling the air as it cohered into a familiar shape.

 _Is that…_

"A scythe…" The guardian muttered thoughtfully under his breath as he carefully examined her weapon, taking in the detailed artistry of its construction and the notes of personalized labor worked into its components. The last weapon he had seen like that was….

"Pretty cool huh?" Ruby waggled her eyebrows proudly as she propped the weapon on her shoulder. "It's also a customizable, high impact sniper rifle. I made it myself!"

The girl's expression deepened with pride as he extended a hand out and asked to hold it, and she effortlessly twirled the cumbersome weapon in her palm as she tossed it towards him.

He caught it by the haft with deft experience, fluidly transitioning into a coiled twist, testing the weight and balance with a moderately impressed smile. It would have been a decent weapon, even for a guardian.

"Then you are a talented craftswoman, Ruby Rose." He offered his tenuous praise as he flicked the scythe one last time before returning it to her, the girl's smile widening to a disturbing elasticity, as if overcome by some alarming revelation.

"You… you like weapons too?"

"I have been known to dabble in their making on occasion." He admitted with a thin smile. To be true he had spent an inordinate amount of time in the forgeries of the Iron Temple, constructing era period weapons from his first life to distribute amongst his closest allies. It had been a way to stay connected to his past, and it served as well to protect those he had come to respect in his life as a guardian.

"Can this day get any better?" Had he not enhanced hearing, he may have not picked up on her hurried and whispered words of wonderment. Instead of remarking on it, he acted as if they had gone unnoticed.

The fluctuant rattle of gears signaling the disassembly of her weapon, the young black haired woman eyed him with a strange tenacity, only made stranger by the unusual color of her irises.

"You… are officially the second, no third coolest person on this planet."

Third?

He was not sure whether to be thankful or insulted.

"So, what's your kit like?"

He looked to the wooden weapon slung across his shoulder.

"I have a bow."

"A bow?" She repeated, her expression and tone not that of someone overawed by that discovery as she finally noticed the comparably pitiful item he carried.

"A longbow… and a knife." He added helpfully.

"That's…. cool." She answered neutrally.

He shrugged, feeling no need to defend his choice of equipment. He had reason enough to keep to his primitive trappings, though if she could see what wondrous technologies he call upon for his discretion, he doubted they would be just… _cool_.

"They've worked well enough for me." Aboriginal or not, they could pierce ancient Grimm hide and full plate just as easily as her hybridized platform no doubt could. Even if he abstained from utilizing the equipment of a guardian, he was no less a threat to anything that would stand against his might.

Skill at arms, not weaponry, made the soldier.

"They must have if you've made it this far. So… did you go to Signal? Because if you had I'd swear I would have noticed someone like you."

He shrugged casually. "No, I'm from Sanctum over in Mistral."

The story he had picked would work well enough. Considering he had lived in every kingdom at some point in time, he knew more than enough to play the role. His decision was made easier since mistralian culture very faintly resembled ancient Greco-Roman civilization.

"Sanctum? That's pretty cool. Did you by chance ever Meet Pyrrha Nikos?"

His confused expression must have been enough to answer her question, as the young girl drifted seamlessly into another topic. Her personality appeared to directly correlate with her attention span.

He weathered the relentless diatribe of her with practiced poise, remaining polite and composed no matter the inanity of her wandering mind. Her questions were as varied as they were rapid, extending from the quality of homemade cookies verse store bought, and the precarious nature of the geopolitical landscape of the four kingdoms.

She had… fascinating interests.

Thankfully, before he would have to endure the next fusillade of demands firing from her mouth, they arrived at the entrance to the assembly hall. As they approached he examined the architecture of the building with an artisan's eye. It was a colossal edifice of creativity, much like the cathedrals of the roman Vatican or the majesty of Notre-Dame. While he had only heard about and seen the latter after the collapse, it had remained intact enough to be recognizable.

He had never seen Beacon from such a pedestrian standpoint. He had only ever conducted his business inside the city of Vale itself, and had only captured at most a curious glimpse of the school resting atop its cliff. Yet now he could at least admire the talent utilized in its construction.

Once inside past the lumbering shadows of the looming wooden doors, his companion was flagged down by the vibrant golden haired woman he had seen earlier onboard the bullhead that had taken them all to the academy.

He took that as his opportunity to fade into the crowd, welcoming even the brief reprieve from her deafening personality. After all it was not like he wouldn't see her again. They would be spending the next four years at the same institution.

 _She was rather nice._

 _I like her!_

The guardian chuckled, shaking his head as he maneuvered through the mass of students towards the closest corner he could find in this roughly circular building.

"Oh, hey there I remember you!"

He stopped, noticing the blond haired youth from before as he approached with a broad grin, arm extended in greeting. Masking his irritation, the man accepted the teenager's offered hand with a courteous smile.

It seemed his search for peace and quiet would have to wait.

"Name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue, ladies love it."

"I'm sure they do. Name's Cassiel." He replied with a firm shake.

"Cool… nice to meet you Cassiel." Jaune winced as he pulled away from their handshake. "So how was Red?"

"She was fine, a little… talkative, but alright. She's over there if you want to speak with her." Inwardly he hoped that was the case, as the corner over there was looking more and more inviting by the second.

Jaune glanced to where he had pointed, and judging from his expression he mirrored the guardian's sentiment. It appeared as if the other girl from before, dressed in the shockingly white outfit, had entered the fray, the ferocity of their conversation audible from even the distance he had already gained.

"No… she looks alright. I'll take your word for it. So where are you coming fro….

The conversation disappeared from his attention as he allowed his mouth to function on autopilot. The guardian instead pondered on the disconnect he felt between himself and those around him. Physically he appeared no older than most of the students attending this academy, he spoke and if necessary, could even act like them. Yet they could not be more different. He was a blooded warrior. He had killed for the legion from his fourteenth to his twentieth name day and he had killed for The Traveler for centuries longer. He doubted anyone here could truly comprehend the vastness of his history.

In that moment he questioned what it was he was trying to even accomplish here. He had reason to fight, his mere existence was compulsory for service. It was the only thing that mattered to him anymore. He could sustain himself if he strived hard enough, but what existence was that really?

The only true sense of purpose he had ever felt was when he fought for a cause. In his first life it had been his dedication to the legion, then eternal servitude to The Traveler. And there had never been a cause nobler than that, the preservation of all mankind. What mattered the legion or the mortal whims of an Emperor? His life as a guardian had been the height of his existence. Every day after that was a lesson in despair he struggled to ignore.

That was why Ozpin's offer had been irrefutable.

The man may not have known everything about him. But he had known enough to correctly assume that he would be susceptible to a new cause. After the Great War he had lost belief in humanity on Remnant. After such a pointless conflict, one that had nearly crippled their society, they still had not learned to unify.

There was no other way to survive the darkness than to unite under one banner.

The Grimm were creatures of darkness, primitive and savage but nonetheless deadly for their unshakable conviction to snuff all things that lived in the light. And they would only become stronger, learning and adapting as the years passed. If left unchecked it was only a matter of time until the denizens of this world would not possess the strength to stop the hordes that waited outside their walls.

And he had wondered as he cast away his vestments of guardianship after the last battle of the war, when his days had been at their darkest, if there was even a point in protecting a people that would not take the steps needed to protect themselves.

Yet….

As he looked to the students here, children, however immature in the moment, willing to dedicate their lives to realize the very same role he had undertaken for his god, he allowed himself to consider that they could change, that they were willing to change. There had been no huntsman before the war, only soldiers in armies.

Here was an establishment created purely for the benefit of humanity, here was proof that not all was lost.

Here was a reason.

"Wow… the headmaster really put it all into perspective huh?"

The guardian drifted from his musing at the sound of Jaune's voice, the young student standing next to him with a thoughtful expression shared by the rest of the teenagers in the hall. He could see the stage as the headmaster stepped away from the microphone, allowing his subordinate to conclude the opening ceremony.

It would appear as if he had missed the highlight of this gathering.

 _Don't worry Guardian, I recorded everything._

Ah yes, Ghost, as helpful as ever.

He did manage to listen to the rest of the speech, what was simply a brief explanation of their temporary sleeping arrangements and a cautionary announcement of the test that was in place for tomorrow.

Unusual, but nothing he was overly interested in pursuing.

Instead he followed the mass of students towards the ballroom. As he walked he turned his consideration to the future, and whatever test it was that would be waiting for them come the next day. He was not concerned since he was confident enough in his skill to know that he would do well in whatever had been planned. He was just eager to rest for the night, as he needed compile his thoughts in peace.

He noticed that Jaune had decided to stay close to him, perhaps perceiving him as a potential alley. He did not pay the other man overly much attention.

The guardian was focused on the promise of a night of quiet contemplation.

* * *

"Hey Cassiel, it's me, Ruby!"

The moment he heard the young girl's peppy voice, Cassiel finally realized that he would probably never find a peaceful night's rest ever again.

He sighed.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Miss Rose." He stepped away from the entrance to the ball room's facilities, a duffle bag of his clothing thrown across his shoulder, the coarse fabric of the satchel's sling scraping against the bare skin of his shoulder. Sleeping in his hunting leathers was not his idea of comfort, and seeing as Jaune had an extra bag and an extra pair of pants, he had put away his in favor of the offered gifts. Jaune was a good kid he supposed, if a little timid.

The guardian watched in confusion as her pale face turned a rather interesting shade of red, nearly as vibrant as the flower associated with her name. The girl looked extremely uncomfortable; though he could not for the life of him discern why it was she had taken such a sudden turn from her poignant disposition.

"Eeep!" Letting loose with a particularly high pitched whine, she ducked behind the taller figure of the woman standing next to her.

"Yowza! What renaissance artist chiseled you out?" The blonde haired teenager exclaimed with an amused smirk as she flicked her eyes up and down his figure. "You know, it's not a crime to admire art, sis." She admonished her sibling with a gentle elbowing.

"YANG!" Ruby screeched, slapping away her sister's elbow, face flushed with mortification. The aforementioned Yang endured the brutal flailing of Ruby's fists with a loud and triumphant chuckle.

The guardian endured their back and forth with a brow raised high in bewilderment.

Truly, the culture of younger generations had evolved beyond his understanding.

"Is… is something the matter Miss Rose?" He wasn't quite sure what to make of the unusual pair standing across from him. Their conduct and mannerisms said they were sisters, but he had never seen two women who appeared so starkly opposite. But then again he supposed there was more to family then blood.

"Nope, nothing, no problem here justpleaseputashirton!" She blurted, her response slowly devolving into an unintelligible babble.

"No please don't. I for one am _thoroughly_ enjoying the show." The older blonde assured him with a low growl that while not inherently threatening, prickled the hairs on the back of his neck nonetheless.

Though he remained painstakingly confused as to what it was he bore witness to, the guardian decided to pay it no more mind as he shrugged and tossed his bag of clothing into the corner some meters away from the bathrooms.

"Is there any way I can be of assistance to you Miss Rose? If not, I believe I was just about to call it a night."

"No I'm fine thank you." Ruby guaranteed him with a hurried nod while she shielded her eyes from some perceived brightness that he could not fathom.

"Actually I think you can help us!" Yang declared as she played devil's advocate, sling an arm across her sister's back and dragging the smaller, helpless girl, to her side in a grip as unrelenting as iron. "We're looking for a place to set up shop, and Ruby here was wondering if you had any room over there."

He glanced backwards as the young girl whispered violently with her elder, a heated debate that saw the word friend tossed around like a live grenade. ""I'm certain there is more than enough space to accommodate you."

"No that's not really necc-"

"AWESOME," Yang exclaimed happily, following after him as he made for his spot, dragging a reluctant and reticent Ruby behind her. "Me and Rubes here were some of the last ones in the hall and we were beginning to wonder of there were any spots left."

"Then lay your worries to rest, there is adequate space here." He assured the both of them as he lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the soothing coolness of the ballroom's interior wall.

Though the marble was hard and unforgiving, it reminded him of the legion. He had slept on more than his fair share of stone surfaces in that time and most anything that reminded him of the simplicities of his past was a pleasant experience. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the life he had once lived, the friends he had made and the battles he had fought for the glory of the Empire. Such things had seemed so important back then, and just went to show truly how small his worldly perceptions had been before he had become a guardian.

Oh how he missed such simple, uncomplicated times.

 _Uh… Cassiel… I think they're staring at you._

As Ghost's slightly amused tone cut into his musing, the guardian opened his eyes and looked to his left, where both Ruby and her sister had set themselves up with sleeping bags and an inordinate amount of pillows, their eyes burrowing into his forehead with unspoken curiosity.

Ah yes he had nearly forgotten.

Most… unfortunate.

The sigh he disguised as he sat up would have caused sails to catch wind with the heaviness of its release. He should have known better than to assume he would have even a moment's peace. Such was not his fate it would seem.

"Can I be of assistance?" He asked, though he hoped his tone would convey that he was not in the mood for courtesy.

"Well since you asked," Yang began eagerly, appearing to be utterly oblivious as to the intent of his words as she wormed a little out of her sleeping bag. "I've been meaning to thank you for taking care of my sister. She can be a little goofy sometimes," her assertion was abbreviated with the young girl's shout of embarrassment, "and I appreciate that you took the time out of your day to keep her out of trouble. You didn't have to do that."

He was somewhat surprised, not having expected the young woman to broach sentiments of gratitude given her apparent personality. It was a rather mature response that he found to be a breath of fresh air given the youthful inanities he had been dealing with.

"Think nothing of it Miss. I would like to believe anyone would do so when in my position. Mister Arc himself would have intervened had I not." He referenced the aforesaid individual with a tilt of his head as he emerged from the bathroom wearing a rather unusual set of attire.

"Ah yes…. vomit boy." Yang acknowledged with a grimace, although her expression was lightened with a smirk as she looked in his direction.

"Does Miss Rose have her own input in this conversation?" He asked with a small but curious smile, the younger of the two sisters having remained mostly quite throughout the conversation. If he was to engage in banter, he'd prefer that at least everyone present be forced to suffer through it with him.

"Yeah… I do." She stated timidly, wedging herself so tightly into her sleeping bag that if she tried any harder she might have cocooned on the spot. "Why do you talk like that… so properly I mean. It's kinda…" She paused clearly struggling for an adjective that would not be insulting.

"Weird? Unusual? More like a doddering old man?" He suggested impertinently, and she might have winced if not for the levity in his tone. Instead she managed a small giggle, slipping ever so slightly from her nest of pillows and blankets.

"Well… yeah." She admitted with an uncomfortable smile.

He shrugged. "Call it a force of habit if you will. Mistral is not a place that accepts self-determination. I was not much older than you are now when I was conscripted into the local garrison for my village. In a kingdom that tries to stifle freedom of expression one can only imagine how much harsher it was to serve in the militia."

This construction was not entirely dissimilar to the truth. Life in the legion had been stringent, much in the way of Mistral, though they had little rules against emotional conduct off the field of battle.

"I see."

Ruby appeared somewhat saddened, though he could not understand why. Her mood picked up however as she considered something. "So, have you ever…" Her sleeping bag roiled with movement as she mimed what could only actions found in combat, or a mild stroke.

He chuckled, genuinely amused by her antics as he replied. "I don't think I would be here if I hadn't, Miss Rose." He paused for a moment, his smile fading as he began to remember. The weight of years was made only more oppressive when he thought of all the battles and wars he had waged for gods and kings both.

Just how much blood stained his hands? How many lives had he destroyed in the name of peace? Even in his first life he had known that not every foe to die by his spear had been put there because they were inherently evil. A cause was only unjust in the eyes of the opposition. Nor had he encountered the likeness of true evil until, as a guardian, he confronted the true enemies of mankind.

There… there had he seen what true evil could be.

Even now the marrow in his bones grew cold as he remembered the lovecraftian terrors that waited in the dark depths of space, horrors beyond human description or understanding. And it brought no comfort to him to know that his nightmares were based in reality.

"Cassiel?"

"Yes Miss Rose?" He turned to the young girl as she shared an uncertain look with her sister.

"Are you… okay?"

"I will be fine. Please do not concern yourself with me. I am not worth you trouble." He suddenly found his taste for conversation having turned sour, and though Ruby very much so appeared eager to press her worries, he returned his head to the wall and sealed his eyes shut.

"Good night Miss Rose."

* * *

Ruby frowned as she looked to the young man sitting across from her, her tongue peeking from in-between her lips as she channeled her inner Zwei. She didn't like when people were sad. And she especially didn't like when people were sad because of her.

She liked Cassiel.

He was the first person she might even tentatively call friend that was not her sister, and that was not something she took lightly. He seemed like a cool guy, even if he spoke a little strange, and he had an uncomfortable habit of sleeping in only a pair of pants.

She blushed and turned away from him, and straight into a pair of lilac eyes.

"Mwap!" A strangled noise of shock struggled to erupt from her mouth as she fell backwards, squirming as she tried to right herself inside her sleeping back, leveraging a burning glare at Yang even though she knew that the blonde menace had grown impervious to _the stare._

"Yang!' She whispered viciously, making sure her voice wouldn't be loud enough to disturb the other teen wrapped up in his inner turmoil.

"I know that look." Her sister simply replied with an infuriatingly smug grim.

Ruby was mortified.

"This is not _the look_ , this is the, _oh jeez my potential first friend at Beacon is in allegorical agony look_." She hissed.

"Yep that look, why Rubes, whatever look do you think I was talking about." Yang asked with an innocently poised eyebrow.

Ruby took satisfaction in the sound her custom ordered Zwei pillow made when it slammed into her sister's unsuspecting face.

She did not enjoy when she felt her sister's arms wrap around her shoulders and suck her out from the comforting warmth of her sleeping bag.

"Why Ruby, that is no way to act towards your sister." The blond admonished as she tucked her young sister under an arm with her stupid strength. "I'm just trying to help you make friends. In fact, now that you have one, we should work on getting you another. Let's try that girl over there, she looks like friend material!"

Ruby had not felt such horror since the no cookies for a month incident.

"YANG NO! YANG WAIT! YANG!" Her shouts of denial were ineffectual against the friendship making powers of her older sister, and the girl went limp with defeat in the stronger girl's arm.

And she could only brood on how much being the younger sister sucked.

* * *

 _AN: Still running pretty hot on this story, don't know why but its really falling into place for me. Not much else to update ya'll with other than the usual grammar disclaimer. Though I do hope I am getting the characterization right. For those of you who have a greater understating of the show feel free to correct me if I'm making any mistakes in regards to characters. I'd like to believe I'm doing alright so far though. As always reviews are appreciated!_

 _Keep the faith!_


	4. Light's Bane

The following sunrise would turn out to be the beginning of an interesting and regrettably unforgettable experience for the guardian. He also feared that it would set the tone for his experiences here at Beacon. While Ghost made sure to explain in detail everything he had observed while he slept, up to, and including, the quantitative number of individual snores he had tallied in his boredom by order of student's gender, suspected age, and developing psychological profile.

Ghost appeared set on utilizing his guardian's forced socialization as a means to entertain himself.

Cassiel simply tried to get through the morning.

This began with his attempt at breakfast.

The dining hall of Beacon outshone even the grandest establishments of the legion, and would have made for a pleasant place to eat, if not for the fact it was packed to bursting with other students chattering loudly amongst each other as they speculated on what test they would soon be facing. It was a lively, familiar attitude, a ritual not unusual amongst the guardians at the tower as they prepared for missions and discussed various interests between patrols.

Beacon, in a way, was much like a school for young guardians. Of course that was if each student had been a born again warrior from an important moment in human history. Considering where he was and the overall unusualness of Remnant compared to Earth, he took this comparison with a grain of salt.

Guardians he had easily made friends with, despite their appearance of age, they were mature, hardened warriors unafraid to act the part of children if it pleased them, anything to alleviate the pressure and stresses of their positions. Those that looked young were the products of what guardians called their _true life_ , the one before they rallied to The Traveler's banner. Most were from periods in Earth's history, such as the medieval and classical ages, where age was not so much important as duty.

These people, he pointedly reminded himself as he scanned the cafeteria, really were children.

Unwilling to even attempt to interface with his fellow trainees, he traversed the buffet line and assembled his platter though minimal interaction with the other occupants of the cafeteria. On his way to the back the room he noticed Miss Rose and her sister sitting at a table with a small collection of students he considered strange, even for their profession.

And as he watched a young woman decimate a plate stacked high with pancakes in the time it took for him to realize what it was he looked at, he reaffirmed his belief in remaining aloof from his compatriots for as long as he could.

It was probably for the best.

So when an excited and overeager Ruby tried to flag him down as she wildly flailed her arm in his direction, the guardian nodded a polite greeting her way, though he made a pointed effort to seek refuge at the only table that did not possess a moderate crowd. He hoped he had not insulted or otherwise hurt the young girl's feelings. She was cute, in a fledgling adolescent unaccustomed or ignorant to the harsh realities of the real world, kind of way. And he, in matter of fact, was somewhat fond of her, if that made sense given the brevity of their two interactions.

The guardian had hardened his life with necessary cynicism to avoid disappointment and to distance himself from the harsh realities of his occupation. So when someone like her came along, it was a refreshing change in pace.

Had the headmaster not distinctly asked him to keep an eye on her, he might have simply out of personal preference.

Cassiel greeted the table's sole other occupant with a terse greeting as he took his place, the young woman replying in a correspondingly concise reaction as she pored over her novel and tucked into a plate of baked fish and various fruits.

Biting into an apple, the guardian brought up the school issued scroll he had been given upon his acceptance, studying its applications in an effort to familiarize himself with technology he had never bothered to use before. Ghost made such a device useless, yet he could not rely on his companion in a public environment like this. As a soldier, he abhorred the idea of not understanding his equipment. As a rather bored immortal, he welcomed the opportunity to entertain himself however briefly.

Perhaps it would help him understand his peers?

After all they appeared entirely addicted to these small devices.

 _Pfff… antiquated garbage. That's what that is._

The guardian masked his reaction at Ghost's sullen tone with a shallow cough, and he noticed the bow twitch atop the head of the girl across from him. Before he could dwell on its significance, the communications device in his hands beeped softly, a message forwarded by the Beacon Academy Automatic Alert System.

 _I could have told you that… thirty minutes ago._ Ghost mused sullenly.

It would appear as if all the students had been summoned to the cliffside in an hour's time, and they were to be dressed in their combat apparel. The guardian hurriedly finished his meal, discarding his trash in a bin by the table with the intent to prepare as quickly as possible. He would admit that his haste was perhaps double-sided.

He hoped to finish rearming before the eventual tide of students would all leave the cafeteria with the same idea. Yet when he arrived at the changing room, he realized that he had not been the only one with that idea.

Setting his duffle bag down on the bench in front of him, Cassiel made a concentrated effort to take no notice of the young woman divesting herself off her clothing, a suit of leather armor hanging on a rack in the locker before her.

He had no interest in conversation.

The guardian followed suit, exchanging the pants Jaune had given him and readjusting his leather breastplate with a careful eye, ensuring that none of the straps would interfere with his movement or otherwise impede his efforts in whatever trial it was the headmaster had concocted. From the impression he had gathered from the man, he doubted it would appear as easy as it may seem once revealed.

As he finished, the man eyed the longbow in his hand with a conflicted frown. At times it was frustrating to work with equipment that only held him back, and he briefly wondered if it was truly wise to forgo the implements of his legacy. But he had made a promise after the war to leave everything behind after he had realized his duplicity in the campaign.

The man sighed, slinging the bow across his shoulder. He had not needed his armor and weapons in over ninety years and he would not have need of them now.

Cassiel had done enough harm with the armaments of a titan.

The past was better left buried.

"Um… excuse me?"

He turned away from the locker he had taken for himself, noticing that the girl from earlier - now dressed in her armor and girded with her spear and shield - was now standing a short distance away. In that brief moment as he evaluated the girl in front of him, he formed a dispute with himself.

Her posture was one with skill. She carried herself with grace befitting a warrior with experience under her belt and she appeared quite at home with the weapons she held. Her figure as well had visibly benefited from rigorous training and he knew immediately that she would perhaps be the most capable combatant of all those he had encountered insofar. Yet… her expression, the way she looked to him, gave the guardian an image of somebody so utterly out of their element.

The only err he could see with her was an unusual lack of confidence.

"Yes…?" He replied with a curious tone, wondering what it was that she wanted from him. As far as he was aware they had never met, though he must admit that he may have forgotten already. A few other students had approached him since his arrival, and he had hardly bothered to remember the names of the few that genuinely interested him.

She seemed to falter, as if not expecting for him to react so casually. Her eyes, wide and green and probing, searched his expression for… something, he could not tell what. It gave him the distinct feeling as if this woman expected some recognition.

"Can I perhaps be of some assistance Miss?" He offered uneasily, now noticeably off put by this unusual girl.

"Do you… not know who I am?" She asked, her lips, a shocking red amidst the paleness of her skin, twisted in the faintest specter of a hopeful smile.

Why she would hope he did not was a source of even further confusion for him considering she had started this dialogue.

The guardian shrugged apologetically. "I must admit to my indignity, that I have not the faintest clue Miss…?"

A quiet, perhaps slightly maddened, giggle erupted suddenly from the girl as she grasped his hand and shook it hastily, though he had not extended it in offer. "Pyrrha Nikos, but you can just call me Pyrrha if you'd like."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Nikos. Cassiel Aurelius, though you may call me by whatever you prefer, I care little." He watched as her smile grew somewhat strained by his instance to adhere to formality and lack of personal preference, though she did not seem to react more than that.

He sighed.

"But my friends call me Cassiel." He offered with a reluctance he hoped would not be too evident. It was true, to an extent. Had he friends, he would have liked for them to call him by this name, for he much despised the other.

Her smile returned to its full luster, and he would grudgingly admit that he himself had returned it, though on pure reflex.

"Pyrrha Nikos!"

He watched win consternation as the girl before him visibly winced, her smile turning forced and premeditated as she turned to the next person to enter the locker room.

"Ah, Miss Schnee, a pleasure."

The irony was not lost on him when he noticed that she spoke with the white haired girl much like he carried himself amongst his fellow students.

Uttering a quick apology, and much to Pyrrha's apparent disappointment, he excused himself from the impending conversation. He knew by this Schnee's glare of dismissal, that he was not wanted. This played in his favor as he had no desire to remain longer.

He departed the changing room, readjusting his belt as he made to follow the corridor down to the academy grounds. From what he saw by the map, it should take him to the cliffside terrace, where the rest of the initiation was to be held.

If he hurried he might be able to-

"Hey Adonis!"

…depart before more students arrived.

He paused, more from the familiar tone than from reaction to the title, as he stopped in the middle of the hall, a frown curling his lips part way before he schooled his expression into a friendly grin.

How unfortunate… he had almost made it.

"Miss Yang…" He offered the approaching woman and her sister a respectful tilt of his head. "I hope the morning has started well for you both."

The blonde haired teenager chuckled throatily, though her smaller sister cut him a friendly smile.

"I was wondering if you acted like that all the time. Mistral really did a number on you huh?" She asked with a curiously perched eyebrow. "Oh and my full name's Yang Xiao Long. If you're gonna be calling me miss or mistress, I just thought you'd like to get it right."

"My apologies, Mistress Xiao Long, I'll endeavor to keep that in mind." His head ducked part way in an expression of regret, he paused at the louder peel of laughter coming from the girl, and the mortified yelp that came from her sister as she assaulted the taller more well developed woman while screeching her name, pale face flush with embarrassment.

The guardian could only watch in confusion, waiting for the pair to cease their bickering before testing the waters uncertainly.

What had he done now?

And why was Ghost being quieter than usual?

"Have I erred, Mistress?" He knew his grasp of modern English to be somewhat archaic at times, and it had become somewhat of a point of amusement for his fellow guardians and his ghost on many an occasion. He tried to keep to proper etiquette as often as he could however. After all, the legion had taught him more than skill at arms, it had taught him respect.

A snort of delight came from Yang; though a harsh elbow to her side stifled what he was beginning to suspect would have been a jest on his part. "No…. No…" She assured him in-between her laughter. "You haven't… _erred_ , Cassiel. Just feel free to call me Yang. And if not… well Miss Xiao Long works well enough."

"Very well Miss Xiao Long. I shall strive to remember this." Confused and feeling hopelessly out of place, the guardian quickly bade them pardon before he was swept up in any more incomprehensible conversation. He e would be better put on focusing for the test they would all soon be facing.

He was starting to regret coming here more and more.

Much to his relief however, he was able to find the location for their test with little else going wrong. It was an unusual place for sure, and he could not yet discern the reason the headmaster had insisted he stand on one of these strange tiles, but he did not think much of it at that time.

He was not here to wonder, he was here to work.

Yet as the rest of the students arrived and Ozpin began his speech, and as he watched the man's lips twitch with the barest traces of a smile, as if he was the insider to a joke no one else could understand, Cassiel began to worry.

The guardian had learned when that man smiled; it was always followed by something where he would not.

Wait… had he heard that correctly?

Teams?

Eye contact?

Partners for the next four years?

Landing strategy?

He looked to his feet; at the ominous square tile he stood upon, what was he realized the first in all the rows of students. A sharp pop met his ears, the sound of spring loaded mechanism activating.

This… this was nothing like a school for guardians.

A low growl escaped him, and he matched the headmasters amused stare with a pair of silver eyes that burned with promised vengeance as he felt gravity relinquish its hold on him.

* * *

"CASSIEL!"

Yang smirked as Ruby cried out in surprise, the both of them watching as the young man catapulted into the sky, his expression free of wonder as it was instead darkened by a grimace that promised death to his enemies.

Which, by his look in that moment before he vanished from sight, could have included everyone present, even the headmaster.

All the students present paused when they heard an uncharacteristic chuckle come from the well-dressed, peculiarly enigmatic man himself, though his assistant looked anything but amused.

"Ozpin…" She muttered darkly, eyeing the man that sipped from his mug far too smugly.

"An unforeseen and entirely unpreventable accident. Whoever calibrated that plate must have put the setting too high."

The woman's eye twitched. "I thought that you were the one tha-"

'Remember students." The man interrupted, a flash of mischievousness visible but for a split second before he disguised himself with a tip of his mug.

"An unforeseen and entirely unpreventable accident."

In that moment no one was inclined to disagree with him.

* * *

 _Well… I happen to think that was pretty funny._

Cassiel ignored the tickled tone coming from his companion as he climbed out from the bottom of the smoking crater he had made with the force of his arrival into the forest. Flash fried dirt warmed his palms as he scaled the ten foot rise ahead of him. The temperature of the immediate forest had risen several degrees, enough that his leather hunting clothes were marginally uncomfortable.

At the lip of the crater he vaulted upwards, finding his balance at the cusp of the hole as he admired the burned trees and scorched grass several hundred meters in either direction.

This was perhaps not his greatest moment.

The guardian could not tell if he was impressed, or infuriated.

He was genuinely impressed that Ozpin had been able to get a leg up on him, and he was furious that the man was, for the moment, free of the risk of reprisal.

"That… wasn't very nice." Cassiel muttered with a frown as he unslung his longbow and tested the string, making sure that it had been unaffected by his arrival. Thankfully his shield protected his weapons and apparel from the threat of incineration during his miniature reentry.

The traveler's gifts were as varied as they were wondrous.

 _I've set a nav beacon on the ancient temple the headmaster mentioned. Your… deployment has put you in a somewhat disadvantageous start compared to your peers. The structure is nearly forty kilometers due south, southwest._

Ozpin really was a bastard, wasn't he?

 _Guardian, movement in the trees, eighty meters north!_

Following Ghost's directions with his eyes, he watched as a small group of beowolves slowly emerged from within the shadows of the forest left unharmed from his impact. The pack, led by a particularly large and armored alpha, eyed him with hungry eyes.

He would not have been surprised to learn that they had been drawn by the horrific cacophony his crash had created. He would have been even less astounded to discover they had simply been following his negativity. Cynicism, in his life as a guardian, had been his coping mechanism, it was how he could come to terms with his existence.

Here on Remnant it served little more than to make him a particularly savory target, which was why he would imagine they pack of beasts were salivating as much as they were. He must have appeared quite the tempting meal.

He would need to dissuade them.

Cassiel sighed, drawing the full weight of his bow as he realized that the day was going to most assuredly be a long one. And yet… he could not recall the last time he had felt so driven. He would excel at the headmaster's test, if only out of spite.

Perhaps sensing his spike of anger, the alpha howled and the pack charged.

* * *

"I'll notify the bullhead pilot of Mister Aurelius' location." Glynda's tone was only slightly concerned as she pulled her scroll up to connect with the airship fueled and ready to react to any unforeseen problems that might arise during the initiation.

"No need Miss Goodwitch." Ozpin assured her as he took a carefully measured sip from his mug of coco. The man was looking entirely all too smug as he examined the camera feed. "Their services will not be necessary."

If she was marginally troubled before, she was blatantly furious now. "Not necessary…?" She hissed darkly. "You launched a student thirty kilometers off course! We hardly even have visual coverage that far into the wilderness. It was a miracle he landed anywhere we can even see him. I like to think it is a fair bit more than necessary!"

If troubled by the facts she pointed out, the headmaster showed no inclination of this, instead watching as the student in question retrieved the spent arrows from his encounter with the beowolves.

"I feel as if I must interject in favor of Glynda on this one old friend." The rather stout and heavily moustached professor beside them added somewhat concernedly. "The lad is a tad bit… misallocated at the moment."

"Thank you, Peter." Glynda sighed gratefully that at least someone nearby possess a remote form of intelligence.

"Of course that would have been no problem for myself, even back when I was a young lad. Why I recall a particular story that may be relev… is something the matter Glynda?" He interrupted one of his best stories in concern for the woman standing beside him and her fit of near apoplexy

As he attempted to ensure that she was not in the middle of a stroke, a tall reedy man with a head of shockingly green hair moved to stand by the headmaster.

"I feel as if I must ask, but is there something special about this one?" Of those present, _Doctor_ Bartholomew Oobleck was perhaps the most observant of the faculty, despite his erratic behavior and worrying addiction to anything that possessed even a milligram of caffeine.

"Perhaps…" Ozpin mused cryptically.

"This, my friend, is a test of a different sort."

* * *

"Wow that was crazy! Did you see how we flew on that nevermore? It was all like cccaaawww! And you were like aaaaahhhhh and I was like YEAH friendship bonding!" The young girl with the red hood made sure to give her partner a dramatic play-by-play of their encounter as they reached Beacon's cliff, her arms writhing like a King Taijitu as she tried to recreate the action packed events of hours prior. They continued to follow the path until they soon arrived back at the assembly hall where the rest of the students had started to gather.

"Yes it was a most… memorable experience." The other girl agreed, a greenish tint overcoming her face as she remembered not enjoying nearly as much as Ruby had. She was in point of fact still trying to understand what had happened in the forest. Nothing she had learned had prepared her for teaming up with such an… unusual character.

"Clearly we have very different memories." The third remarked from her place in the back of the group. "The sooner I forget the better."

"Oh don't be such a flake Blake." Yang admonished her partner with a smile that only grew wider as the other girl groaned at the pun. "What? Don't be yangry."

"How much do you love your sister?"

Ruby turned to Blake and made a so-so gesture.

"RUBY!" The blonde terror cried out in shock. "You traitor!"

"YOU LET ME FALL!" The girl in the hood wailed as she turned her ire upon her sister. "I fell right next you." She harrumphed adorably, like a child that had been promised a treat, only to find out it did not exist. "And you didn't catch me."

Yang chuckled nervously. "Come on Rubes, I was a little busy with that deathstalker." Had she taken her eyes off it probably would have made a very unattractive hole in her chest. She had an image to maintain after all.

"You. Let. Me. Fall." The aura of cuteness around the girl receded as a dangerous gleam flashed across her silver eyes.

"It was an accident." Her older sister pleaded, her words unheeded against the unrelenting intensity of _the stare._

"Mercy?" She whimpered.

Yet the eyes told her there would be none.

Those around the group dissipated, perhaps sensing the rise in murderous intent. Even Blake and Pyrrha had vanished, leaving the two sisters alone to deal with their problems. Yang looked for someone, anyone to save her, but upon seeing she had been abandoned by her newly acquired acquaintances, and everyone else in a forty meter radius, she folded.

"COOKIES!" She relented with a desperate yell, throwing her hands up in front of her face to block her vision of the fiery demon she called a sister. "I'll make a fresh batch of cookies. Just please don't give me that look!"

A switch was flipped.

"Okay!" Ruby squeaked, pirouetting with a happy giggle. "But they better be super deluxe double chocolate supreme, with extra sugar!"

Yang might have argued, knowing what would happen should Ruby ever gain possession of such confectionary power. But while world might suffer for the monster that would unleash, she at least, would not.

And Yang was a selfish girl.

"That was handled well."

"Yeah, and where were you when you're partner was turning into the next Grimm overlord?" Yang leveraged an accusing stare at Pyrrha, which while lacking in the unbeatable power of her younger sister, was enough to shake even the most stalwart of individuals.

Pyrrha was a quick witted girl.

"Well I was… the thing is… Oh look! It's Weiss and her team. I better go talk to them!" Cutting an excuse as finely honed as any blade, the Champion fighter of Mistral used her impressive agility to weave through the crowd.

"Oh no you don't, no one escapes The Yang that easily!" The fiery blonde forewarned as she chased after The Invincible Girl, who in that moment as she raced to escape the vicious noogy that would befall her should she be captured, did not feel quite so indestructible.

And yet, she still had a smile as she mercilessly pushed a smaller student out of the way. Her choice to transfer to Beacon seemed to have worked out for the better, even if she was under threat of mild inconvenience if the blonde got a hold of her.

Yes everything was turning out perfect; at least until her shoe caught on the leg of the student she had bulldozered.

"Greetings Pyrrha, it's a-" The soft spoken teenager she had met during initiation would never come to finish his sentence as a wildly spinning Mistral Champion smashed into him with the full force of her escape vector.

Both collapsed in a pile of bruises and low groaning.

"COOL, it's a pile party!" The girl that had been standing next him let out an uproarious and slightly unhinged chuckle as she leaped skywards, clearing an impressive ten feet with a single bound.

"Nora no…" Half way back to his feet, the pink eyed youth's calm voice only cracked slightly as he gazed up at the orange meteor screaming down upon him with a resigned sigh. That he showed a fatalistic acceptance of the impending collision spoke volumes of their relationship.

Not necessarily in a good way.

"PANCAKES!"

The unusual battle cry caused even Yang pause as she watched tragedy in motion, though her smug grin malformed into a beatific and sparkling chortle. Her revenge was second had, but no less sweet for it.

Three bodies now occupied the pile of miserable humanity between the two respective parties that had come together to watch it all unfold. And while Ruby and her new friends seemed more than delighted as the red hooded girl giggled and helped her partner from the heap of broken students, one amongst them was not.

"I… have no words." Weiss's opinion was carried on her face, the heiress having firmly placed a thumb and forefinger on the bridge of her nose.

"I happen to think it was pretty funny." Jaune interjected unhelpfully from beside his partner.

"Of course an… individual of your standing would find humor in this slapstick travesty." Weiss murmured with poorly contained irritation. "It was just my luck to be partnered with someone that did not even have their…" She paused, her retort slowly fading as she eyed the young blonde with a perplexed eye.

Jaune winced when she turned away, leaving the rest of her disparaging remark unspoken. He was grateful, and yet somewhat sad at the same time.

Yeah… their first meeting had not been his best moment. In a way he owed her his life, which only made it worse that she was a beautiful heiress to a massive multibillion lien company.

His famous Arc misfortune appeared to have come to him in full force lately.

"Wow that was a blast, wasn't it Renny?" The orange haired girl jumped to her feet, dragging her partner with her as she bounced erratically in place, as if suffering from a permanent sugar rush.

"A memorable experience." He agreed, sighing as he dusted his clothes and tried at least to retain his dignity amidst such a disaster.

"Yes." She mused thoughtfully, a pipe appearing in her hand after she reached into her jacket. "An experience like this should be commemorated. I know, it shall be dubbed hence forth as Pile day! We'll make it a Remnant wide holiday, a day where everyone converges in one giant pile." She sighed wistfully, as those around her took measures to stand apart. "That would be great."

"Yes I'm sure it would be a… great idea." Ruby assured the unstable orange haired youth as she scanned the assembly hall, jumping in place in an attempt to look over the crowd of taller figures. "Hey Yang, have you seen Cassiel anywhere? I can't see him anywhere."

He older sister stepped away from Pyrrha, totally not intending to pile driver the unsuspecting girl as she added her efforts in trying to find the curiously polite boy from before.

"Oh, you have met Cassiel?" Pyrrha perked up excitedly, turning to the pair of siblings with an unreadable gleam in her emerald irises. The Champion fighter had not forgotten the peculiarly well-mannered teen she had met in the locker room. She herself was intent upon seeing him again. And her interest was certainly not born of the fact he had been unable to recognize her at all.

Nope, not one bit.

"Yeah we know him." Yang crowed complacently, noticing the way the celebrity figure next to her seemed to liven up at the mention of his name. "We spent the night together in the ballroom." She added with a grin. "And let me tell ya, he's certainly not your everyday herc-"

The blonde spluttered as a paper airplane landed in her open mouth. Lilac eyes widened in shock as she suddenly found her tongue used as an impromptu landing strip.

"No, bad Yang." Ruby scolded, even as she hurriedly stuffed a ream of paper back into her book bag.

The quietest member among them finally made a noise, the dark haired anti-socialite chuckling softly at her partner's expense.

The blonde brawler ripped the paper from her mouth and looked ready to shove it in the now cackling hole of the girl next to, before her attention was expertly diverted by the one in imminent danger herself as she gestured towards the floating holo-screens spread across the chamber.

"The screens have been playing footage from the initiation since we entered the building. And there's only one student left unaccounted for. I imagine that is the boy you are speaking of."

Yang paused, crumpled missile falling from her uncurled fist as she realized they were the only ones holding a conversation in the entire auditorium. The rest of the student body had been quiet while they had their dispute, watching the floating displays with rapt attention.

"Oh…" She muttered softly in realization.

* * *

"Fututus et mori in igni!" The guardian snarled, slipping into the lowborn slang often tossed about in his days of roughhousing amongst the legion. He did not often relapse into Latin, and certainly not to curse and swear. He was, as a general rule, far more reserved than that. Such occasions were usually only as a result of overtly strenuous circumstances.

It just so happened that this was one of those times.

His last arrow snapped, the broadhead point deflecting off the plate overlaid breastbone of the alpha beowulf that howled and charged at him, its arms swinging wildly as it tried to remove his head from his shoulders. This was perhaps the third or fourth of its kind he had encountered since the start of this farce of an initiation. He wasn't sure which, he had killed so many Grimm that he had not really bothered to remember.

Cassiel ducked underneath its untrained swipes with ease, rolling to the side as it continued forwards heedless of his practiced agility. Grimm were unintelligent as a rule, and easily manipulated by the experienced. This was a trick he had used often, and it always worked.

He had a long time to become skilled at the occupation of Grimm slayer.

In the end they died like any other creature of the dark.

Painfully, and in agony.

The guardian jumped forwards, digging his fingers deep into the thick fur spanning the heavy hide across the monster's back. As expected, the beast instantly stood up straight, reaching its arms backwards to pry away the man currently riding its shoulders. Whereas an intelligent adversary might have had enough presence of mind to thrown themselves on their back and crush the individual jockeying on them, the alpha approached the situation with a fatal simplicity.

A howl had been rising from its throat, a bid to summon more of its pack to the fight, yet before the warbling call could reach high enough decibels to be heard across the forest, the Grimm suddenly found its airways constricted by the bowstring garroting its throat.

Cassiel leaned backwards, utilizing both his weight and the effects of gravity as he strangled the towering creature. And as a clawed paw smashed against his shoulder, the guardian delivered a deadly hammerfist to the back of its skull, a terse growl of fury erupting from his throat at the exertion.

Hot blood splashed across his snarling expression as its cranium violently exploded underneath his light augmented strength. Hands that had been empowered to tear through steel plate and crush shields ensured that a thick skull would be little challenge.

The Grimm dropped to its knees like a doll with its strings cut, and the man stepped off its corpse and slung his bow across his back, the weapon no longer viable in the situation he now faced.

 _Guardian we are only ten kilometers from the temple._

He sighed as he wiped the Grimm blood from his face, even as it evaporated into the air. Three hours and ten times as many kilometers through an emerald forest teeming with the creations of darkness.

He had killed more Grimm since the commencement of the initiation than he had in the last eighty years. And the man could feel the soreness of muscles he by rights should not be feeling given his predisposed condition.

If there was ever a guardian that could be called out of shape, he'd probably be it.

Cassiel drew his knife, studying the now pitted and warped steel of the blade that had been responsible for so many dead Grimm. And in that moment he knew he could not rely on such weapons forever, not if he was going to take a more proactive approach like the one Ozpin had offered him.

A snort of disdain passed through his lips as he tossed the knife to the dirt and once again followed the nav point laid out by his ghost. His fists would make for a better weapon than anything else he might scrounge up in this light forsaken forest.

He cracked his knuckles, anticipating the chance to return to the bare fisted brawling he had been so fond of back in his youth. While centuries in the past, his taste for more primal means of combat had not waned. He was ever still a fan of pankration, his favorite blood sport.

Not even the coliseums and their games had been able to elicit quite the same feeling of excitement as when he had fought another man for coin, the meaty thwack of fist against flesh, the roars of the crowd, and the smell of blood. It was thoughts like that drew a melancholic sigh from the guardian.

He would always be fond of recalling the days when he had been the pankration champion for his legion. They were simpler, less complicated times.

A boarbatusk emerged from a bush, the stout beast snorting a challenge as it scrapped the ground with a cloven hoof. It was foolish to think it could harm him, even disarmed as he was, but the man would be glad to humor it for however briefly it would remain alive.

Cassiel grinned, planting his feet firmly as it let loose a mighty squeal and bore down upon him in a berserker charge. And when it did impact against him, the battle did not turn out as the beast might have expected.

The full inertia of its assault was stunted as its curved horns, sharp enough to punch through the strongest of Remnant armors, slammed into the unyielding pressure of his open palms, and the Grimm nearly flipped end over end as it still propelled itself forwards, the plates of its face cracking as it shrieked in surprised pain.

The guardian did not give it long to realize its mistake before he lifted the boarbatusk over his head and slammed it into a nearby tree with enough force to snap the spire of wood in half with a sharp clap of noise. Whatever bones it had in its body were shattered as he utilized the immense strength of a titan to propel it through solid oak.

But he was not yet finished.

Cassiel wrenched his right arm, and with a sickening crunch of bone, he snapped the first of several inches from the tusk in his hand, finishing the beast with a powerful uppercut that lodged the shard of ivory deep into its chin and up through into its primitive brain.

The animal went limp in his arms and he let it fall to the forest floor.

It was with supreme effort of will that he controlled the climb of elation he felt rising in his chest as he looked down upon his defeated foe, having been moments away from releasing a cry of victory that would have echoed through the trees. This was not the legion… this wasn't the legion. He reminded himself as he took a step back and banished the memories of better times.

No.

This was not the legion.

This was a forest populated with untold numbers of mankind's enemies.

This was not Earth, nor Mars, or even Venus.

This was Remnant.

And he was not here by choice.

 _Guardian… please. Control yourself._

He nodded, more for Ghost than himself as he walked away, eager to put distance between himself and the beast that faded into the wind.

He no longer felt like smiling.

It had not been well known amongst the humans of Earth, but a guardian's ghost did more than guide them through their missions. Their ghosts were also to help keep them rooted in the present, a force to guide their minds as well as their lives. To live as long as they did was not without trials, it was often easy to slip into memories, to forget the present in favor of the past.

It was not a secret they liked to share.

Their protectors were more broken then they realized. To fight the darkness was to invite insanity.

The past was usually easier to bear.

 _Are you alright, Guardian?_

A loaded question to be sure, one that asked far more than what was implied. Was he mission capable? Yes without a doubt, he was always ready to fight. He was a guardian. But was he psychologically sound? No, perhaps not.

But since when had that mattered? He mused in a chuff of amusement.

 _It's just another two kilometers now. Then we can get out of this place._

It was telling that Ghost was eager to finish as well, a sentiment of shared disagreement that reminded him of their more pleasant days, back when everything made sense and the world wasn't mad. Ghost did care about him, despite how he acted unfairly at times when his mood was at its darkest. The machine was as much a part of him as an arm or leg, perhaps even more vital than that. And he was happy at least to know that it knew he felt that way, because he was far too prideful to admit when he was wrong.

The guardian stopped.

Ghost went silent, nearly unnoticeable amidst the backdrop of his mind as he felt his muscles tense with anticipation, his body noticing far sooner than his mind.

The forest was silent.

He could feel it now. With his thoughts no longer distracting him with their torment he could sense the overbearing darkness, the atmosphere of despair. A true creature of the dark had entered the field, a beast of the likes he had not fought in nearly an age, of such strength and power that he could feel it from even this distance.

 _Guardian… Cassiel… we need to leave._

He did not respond, only listening as the creature approached, the reverberation of its lumbering gait echoing through his chest with the force of its presence. This was something actually worth his effort, this was something that might finally do what the rest could not.

 _Guardian… please._

Ghost's pleas went unanswered as Cassiel watched the titanic beast's arrival with rapt attention. Eighteen feet from the snout to tail tip, the Grimm monstrosity towered over the guardian, tufts of fur barely visible between the sea of deathly white panels that covered its hulking frame, the plates of bone thicker than tank armor. Claws as long as swords and thrice as deadly, gleamed in the beams of sunlight cutting through the forest's shadows. And a pair of yellow eyes, cold and calculating, regarded with disdain the man that dared to stand in defiance of its majesty.

Its lips curled into a dangerous, knowing smile as it stepped forwards, the weight of its foot pressing deep into the soft earth. Muscles as dense as iron rippled as the Ancient Grimm ponderously leaned its great bulk downwards, its eyes drawing level with the figure of light before it.

" _Ave, bellator luminis."_

The words, gruff and near unintelligible, yet spoken, however crudely, in the language of his birth, carried more curiosity than ill intent as vibrant yellow irises studied the guardian intensely.

And far away, in the halls of Beacon, the world spiraled into chaos.


	5. Untoward Complications

Chapter 5: Untoward Complications

 _Guardian…._

Cassiel, as he had been for the past several minutes, remained unresponsive towards his Ghost, instead watching with a neutral eye as a bullhead thundered across the sky from the academy. He had known the moment that… thing had shown itself, that it would not be long before the headmaster would respond.

The man was at least predictable to some extent.

He had also known there were cameras in the forest, and he knew that he was being observed… studied like some predominantly perplexing test subject. He had allowed himself to be documented, willing to amuse the headmaster and his agenda for the moment. But when the Grimm spoke, he had Ghost wipe all electronics within a kilometer of his position. He supposed he should have been surprised that _she_ would risk so much to contact him, really he should have expected this when he had chosen to effectively come out of retirement.

But if he knew anything about that woman, she was not above taking risks. It was just unfortunate that most of those tended to pay off. It spoke more of her skill as a tactician than her luck. But he supposed that should all but be expected.

The titan, expression shadowed by contemplative thought, studied the massive weapon in his hands, his knuckles whitened from the tightness of his grip.

Why she had thought to keep it until now, he would probably never know, nor would it be an answer he would have liked to hear.

He just could not tell what it was she sought to accomplish this time. He would have given much, perhaps too much, to know the answer to this particularly befuddling riddle.

The bullhead touched down not three minutes after he first drew sight of it. The airship had hardly touched the dirt before the headmaster himself strolled down the ramp, cane clicking lightly against the sheet metal. Behind the man was a blonde haired woman, with sharp emerald eyes, eyes which roamed strictly across the immediate landscape, perhaps for signs of the beast that had emerged.

Cassiel joined in her observation, noting the ruptured pillars of broken trees and great gouges of dirt torn from the soil of Remnant. It was the scene of a battle fought with fierce tenacity and unrestrained power. The guardian allowed himself to appear somewhat exhausted, leaning heavily upon the haft of the weapon he propped at his side.

"Headmaster…" He greeted politely, if seeming fairly fatigued.

"Mister Aurelian," the man replied just as cordially, his expression giving no hint as to what he actually felt in that moment as he approached. "It would appear as if you have handled yourself well." He added, his eyes for the briefest of moments sparkling with what could have been amusement or affirmation.

"A battle well fought." The guardian acknowledged with a convincing grimace. In way it had been the hardest confrontation of several years spent upon this backwater world.

"I can only imagine." Ozpin mused thoughtfully.

Eyeing both headmaster and student with confusion at their knowing conversation, the blonde woman affixed him with a piercing gaze.

"Are you injured, Mister Aurelian?"

He shrugged. "A little tired perhaps." That was possibly the most honest thing he had said since he came to this school.

Her viridian irises flashed with suspicion, but she could not see any visible injuries or other signs that he had lied. Realizing she would not get a satisfactory answer for anything she had just seen and heard, the woman sighed heavily, a look of bewildered defeat coming across her features.

"Come then, we will take you back to back to the academy."

"What of the initiation?" From what he understood he had neither completed the goal nor met the one who would become his partner.

He was not one to accept failure.

"In light of your actions and the… exceptionality of your predicament, and what is sure to be a long meeting with the headmaster." She looked on coldly to the man who could only shrug bemusedly in his defense. "We shall make an exemption for you this one time."

She sighed, an intense look of resignation overtaking her.

"Welcome, Mister Aurelian, to Beacon."

* * *

Jaune Arc was a lot of things to a lot of people. To his family he was a bumbling, loveable failure, like the drunken uncle you loved despite his obvious shortcomings. To the students of Beacon he was a legitimate huntsman in training, someone that deserved to be here just as much as anyone else. To his new partner, the heiress of the SDC, he was a clumsy, untrained, hopelessly moronic disappointment.

After all, she had as much told him this herself, in vivid, eloquent detail.

Even now as he stood awkwardly beside the girl that very clearly did not want him anywhere near her, he could practically sense her displeasure at their circumstances. And to think he had formed somewhat of a rushed crush on this icy female.

So it was no surprise that while the group of students they had met and fought beside during initiation, bickered and muttered amongst themselves, tossing about wild speculations about why the hovering screens had suddenly shut down, he was far too worried about his potential future here at Beacon to bother to pay attention.

Sorry dude, but he had his own problems to deal with.

"Do you think Cassiel is alright? Oh I hope he's okay." The shortest and youngest amongst their number murmured fretfully, wringing her hands as she watched the crowd of students around them chatter excitedly.

Everyone had seen the subdued, but noticeably intense argument coming from the headmaster and his assistant before they hurriedly disappeared through a side door in the assembly hall. Not moments later a rather rotund member of the faculty, wearing the most ridiculous mustache anyone had ever seen, had stepped up to the podium with assurances that everything was well under control, and no they did not have to worry, and of course he would be glad to attac- entertain them with a fascinating story about a roguish, handsome, brave and fierce huntsman.

No one had actually asked him that last question.

Nearly half an hour had passed since then, and the fat man at the platform seemed no less ready to finish his tale as he had been when he started. Most of the students had taken to ignoring his rambling in favor of speaking animatedly amongst themselves or otherwise finding other ways to cancel out the grossly over-embellished and entirely unwanted anecdote.

"I think he can handle himself." The uncomfortably beautiful older sister of Ruby declared confidently. And Jaune blushed at the unabashed look of lecherous appetite on her eager grin. She had seen, as the rest of the student body had, of the young huntsman-in-training's excellence in hand-to-hand combat. There was probably only one other person in the entire hall that could boast to be as capable.

And in that moment she seemed to be drooling hungrily. Jaune was not sure how much of that was theatrics.

It must have been a testament to her concern that Ruby had not admonished her older sister for her teasing ways, as she instead continued to agonize over the fate of their classmate.

"What… what even was that thing. I've never seen a Grimm like it."

Jaune wondered at that as well. He may not have had four years of formal training, but he had learned a lot from his father. The man was a rarity, which was to say that he was a retired huntsman. Not many could attest to having survived their career long enough to overcome their stupidity.

At least that's what his dad said.

"Fenrisúlfr…"

The answer to the young girl's question went unheard at first, coming from the quietest person amongst them. However some moments after it was aired, they all turned nearly as one to listen to the speaker.

Blake, seeming to realize only then that she had spoken, lowered her book and wilted slightly, clearly unaccustomed to being under such scrutiny. "It's a Fenrisúlfr." She blurted out quickly, hoping to finish her explanation and push the attention of the seven other teens away from herself.

Yet upon noticing the looks of confusion on their faces, and the clear lack of sufficient education, she sighed and slowly closed her novel with the resigned patience of a teacher, the pages of her book coming together with a muted thump. "It's from a language belonging to an ancient civilization once found on Mantle, before the continent was renamed by the altesians. Fenrisúlfr roughly translates to Lupine Deity, or Wolf God."

"So… probably pretty dangerous then." Jaune muttered, now somewhat worried for the teen he had lent his clothes to. Anything referenced as a god would definitely be no push over. Honestly it sounded like something they sent a team of full-fledged hunters to combat.

The raven haired girl nodded, a foreboding expression coming across her otherwise impassive visage. "They are not often seen outside of Atlas, and even then only in the harshest climates. They have been known to kill entire teams of experienced hunters and wipe out border villages. But there hasn't been a sighting in over a hundred years. What one is doing here in the forests of Vale, is a question I imagine the headmaster and the council will want answered."

"You seem to be well read." Ren mused with a slight smile.

Blake merely opened her book and returned to her reading.

"Should… we be panicking then?" Yang asked uncertainly, the blonde brawler appearing somewhat anxious herself, now mirroring her younger sister quite well. Cassiel seemed to be a real tough one, really a guy after her own heart, what with the suplexing Grimm and stuff, but he was still a kid. Something like that would be far ahead of him.

"I'm certain the headmaster has everything under control. He wouldn't allow any of his students to die." Weiss declared confidently.

"Really?' The girl in the red hood asked hopefully.

The heiress huffed haughtily. "Of course. He would not be headmaster if he was incompetent."

As if in response to her declaration, all conversation in the hall was hushed as the main doors opened, introducing the headmaster himself, his assistant, and the familiar figure of a particular student. They paused in the doorway, appearing to converse briefly with the young man before breaking away to begin the ceremony that had been postponed.

Jaune looked to the guy he had thought of to some extent as a friend, or more of an acquaintance really, and tried to not feel resentful. If one were to think he had encountered a Grimm far above his station, they would be hard pressed to believe it. He seemed no worse for wear, if mayhap somewhat exhausted by his fatigued expression. The teen looked no more concerned than he had staring into the eyes of that towering monster, possessing a confidence Jaune wished he could emulate.

And while he may not have been like his fellow students, he was probably more observant than the rest, a trait he had picked up from dealing with his seven sisters, an environment where a male had to watch his words carefully when so outnumbered by the opposite gender. He saw what most might not, and he noticed things that most people wouldn't care to.

As such, when Ruby cried out his name and rushed over, Jaune, for the briefest of moments, noticed the flicker of exasperation that crossed the other teen's face before it was quickly disguised under a veil of affability. But he did not read too far into it. He had not known the girl for long, but even then he had learned all he needed. It was understandable if Cassiel was a little irritated.

"Ah Miss Rose, a pleasure." He made to bow, but instead issued a grunt of surprise and staggered backwards as a small hooded comet slammed into his chest at maximum velocity.

Jaune was impressed. Not even her sister had been able to weather such an impact without bowling over.

"Cassiel, you're alright!" Ruby shouted happily, clinging tight to the chest of the young man. "I didn't see you the whole initiation even though I looked. And then we got back and I saw that giant dog-thing that Blake said was a Fensulber or something and then the screens cut out and I thought you were gonna die and then… and then.."

Jaune smiled at the awkward, helpless look that overcame Cassiel as Ruby began to sob into his chest. His eyes searched for the girl's sister, and sent a desperate, silent plea for aid. And the blonde watched in humor as the older girl shrugged and made an amused gesture that clearly meant he was on his own.

Cassiel sighed heavily in resignation, lowering his hands to Ruby's shoulders to gently push her away so that he could look her in the eyes. "Please Miss Rose; do not cry for what has not occurred. I am alive and I am well. There is no need for tears. And if I had perished you should surely not cry for someone you hardly knew."

Those present frowned at his words. Jaune himself was taken aback by the other teen's thoughtless cynicism, startled to hear such self-effacement from someone so young. Cassiel seemed remarkably accepting of death, and it was no surprise that Ruby did not take to that well. He hardly knew her long but even he had been quick to understand her personality.

"Don't be stupid!" The girl snapped as she slapped his chest heatedly, her open palm slamming into his leather armor with significant force, though such an action must have hardly gone noticed by him. "Don't talk like that. _I_ care about what happens to you. You're my firstest bestest friend here at Beacon. Of course I would be sad if you… you know." She mumbled, unable to even mention what he suggested.

"Then you must make friends quickly, Miss Rose." He spoke softly, his lips curling into a faint, but noticeable smile.

And for a moment Jaune knew it was genuine.

"Yep!" She declared brightly as she reached to her right and pulled a sputtering Mistral champion to her side. "Look I made another while you were gone, say hi Pyrrha." Ruby giggled as she pushed the other girl towards him, the two smashed together uncomfortably.

"Miss Nikos, it is nice to make your acquaintance once again." The teen chuckled softly, seemingly amused by the young girl's actions. He was in all appearance unflustered with having an attractive girl thrust upon him, and Jaune was impressed by his mellowness. There were few, if any, that could be so composed when brushings chests with The Invincible Girl herself.

The red head let out a nervous laugh as she tried to back up, but met the unrelenting force of Ruby's palms on her back.

The little girl appeared adamant that they both be friends.

"Hello again." She offered weakly.

"See I have two friends, and now they're friends. I have friends squared! And I'm good at math!" Ruby declared triumphantly, wrapping them both into a hug as she jumped in place, managing to lift the two in an impressive feat of strength.

Both endured her antics in mutually assured silence.

Once the girl with the hood released them, they separated quickly, and the boy turned to those present he was not acquainted with, but had a feeling he would need to be in the coming days. It would be best if he tried at least to be amiable with his soon to be peers,

"Cassiel," he offered his name with a rueful smile. "Though I'm sure you've heard about me by now."

"It may have come up in passing conversation." The other boy admitted with a grin. "I'm Lie Ren. And this is-"

"Hi I'm Nora!' The girl beside him exclaimed loudly, her eyes flashing with an energy that even Ruby could probably not match.

"A pleasure to meet you." He winced as the girl grabbed his hand and shook it, surprised by the power in her grip.

Jaune did not blame him. Nora's grip was as strong as iron, and twice as unforgiving. From her place by Ruby, he could see Pyrrha's sympathetic glance. There was not one here who had not experienced that girl's unusual strength, which might have been impressive considering they had known each other for all of a day. Instead it felt more like a worrying glimpse into the future.

It was then after reintroducing himself to the girl he had met at breakfast, that Cassiel stopped upon the last of the eight. The boy bowed low, a marked deference in his tone as he looked to the SDC heiress.

"Miss Schnee."

The girl, for all her bluster, seemed stunned at the display, her pale cheeks flushing with a pinkish hue. "A-At least someone here will s-show me the proper respect." She stuttered inelegantly, her sharp mannerism fading amidst his honest respect.

Thankfully for her, the portly faculty member chose that moment to abdicate from his throne, replaced by the headmaster and his assistant. And while the others looked to the stage eager to hear the acceptance speech, Jaune turned to Cassiel, noticing the lingering smirk he only just allowed to be seen, a look meant for only each other, one that showed the harmless jest on the part of his partner.

Jaune smiled.

He may not make friends as quickly as Ruby did, but he hoped that what he saw from Cassiel was perhaps the start of something. All he had ever wanted was to be a huntsman, to protect the innocent and maybe even gain a little popularity or fame at the same time. He had hoped for friends, but the idea had been more of a bonus than the main objective. He certainly had not thought he'd find any on the first day, not with his luck. But maybe… just maybe, as he looked to the strange assortment of individuals around him, he allowed himself to think that his luck might be changing

* * *

 _Guardian… we need to talk._

Cassiel sighed, a response he was beginning to would become chronic and a character of his time here at Beacon. For the past day he had kept distance from Ghost, as much as one could at least when the person they wanted to ignore had a permanent residency in your neural cortex. And while the machine may have thought it was due to their encounter in the forest during initiation, it would only be partly correct.

He could not even focus the entirety of his sigh upon the ghost, but had to split it between the light shard and his new… teammates as they ransacked the room they had been given the night before.

Ozpin did not always deal in subtly it would appear.

From what he understood it was unusual, but not unheard of, to have five in a unit here at the academy. Guardian fireteams functioned much the same in all truth. Though they did not have to share living conditions, which was something he had not been prepared for.

He had not slept that night, content enough to sit at one of the desks in their dorm room and contemplate the sheer irrationality of his existence. Thankfully his unit had been too tired to do more than enter the room and fall upon their new beds. But not even an entire night's peaceful meditation had offered solace to the guardian as he fully grasped the insanity he had unwillingly chosen to be a part of.

And so, he watched in bewildered amusement as his four teammates tried, and miraculously succeeded, in fabricating a pair of precariously manufactured bunk beds. Though one of them might be killed or seriously injured at any point in the middle of the night, the fact that it worked, outside of theory, was an impressive accomplishment.

He glimpsed, in bemused passing, at the corner of the room he had claimed for himself, a quaint little place with a small shelf and a cot he had been given from academy storage, and could not help but feel a pang of longing for his cabin, and the comfort of his own bed.

Such was not to be however.

Cassiel glanced to his scroll, and the time it displayed as his teammates started to discuss the day.

They… were going to be late.

He sighed.

Chronic condition indeed…

He did smile however, once they realized this truth, and he watched with a chuckle as they scattered, gathering their school stuffs and hurriedly vanishing out the door to their class, entirely having forgotten the quietest among their number in their haste. He did not take insult, though by rights he would not be at fault if he had. He had been their age once, with all the superficial concerns and mercurial thought that entailed. Youth was such a precious thing and he hoped they would enjoy it while it lasted. His smile lingered, even as it grew pained and saddened.

What he would have given to have such days returned to him…

Ghost materialized before him, the little shard of light staring at him with an intense scrutiny that was none too pleased.

" _Guardian…"_ It warned.

He nodded tiredly, shutting off the screen of his scroll and returning it to the pocket of his school uniform. Even a moment of peace for him was never quite just that.

" _We need to talk about what we saw… what you did."_

"Yes of course." He agreed. This had been a conversation he knew would happen, but that made it no less difficult.

" _Why did you take it?"_ Clipped and to the point, no humor or lighthearted banter whatsoever. Ghost really was upset this time around.

"Because it was offered." He answered with a wane smile, and upon noticing his ghost was unamused, sighed and elaborated. "You know her just as well as I do. It would not have mattered what I said, anything would have been a victory for her. Better I benefit even slightly, then not at all."

Ghost did not respond immediately, and he took that as the truth it knew he was right. Their foe was as cunning as she was manipulative. She only moved when she knew she would win, this time was no different. There were few upon this planet that played the game as well as she did, he was unfortunately not one of them. He was a titan. He preferred to wage his battles with a brutal, forthright pragmatism.

He did not do well in this domain of shadow wars and backroom politics, which was part the reason he sought his solitude. He had grown sick and weary with the world and the way humanity seemed insistent on keeping themselves upon the brink of extinction. Through civil wars and fights for equality, the status quo ever remained unchanged. They fought against everything he stood for as a guardian, spat in the mouth of all his achievements. They had lied to him, abused his powers, and cast him aside when he no longer would play by their rules.

And yet when they had need of him, he came back, crawling on his knees like some kind of beaten hound, continually loyal to the master that abused it. Such was his life upon this worthless ball of mud, slinging its way perpetually through the void. What else could he do? Saving humanity was in his spirit, in his very soul, as much a part of him as the heart that beat within his chest. He could not give up on the people of Remnant, even if they would so effortlessly give up on him, reduce his work to not but old stories and faded mythos, forget everything he had ever done for them.

When they struggled to live their lives without the kingdoms, he had been their shield. When they rallied to bring the fight to the Grimm, he had been their sword, and when the days grew dark, when they had been on the precipice of defeat, he had been their light.

And in the end, everything he had ever done meant nothing.

He could only look upon all their works and despair.

" _What do we do now, Guardian.?"_ Ghost knew him well, knew nearly every thought in his head the moment it was born into his mind. There was no one on this world or any other that knew him so intimately. So the moment the question had been asked, he knew it already had the answer, but simply wanted him to say it, have his own words used to remind him of the determination he had all but lost. He may spend his days dancing with despair, but Ghost would always believe in him, in their sacred duties.

And for Cassiel the faith of one would have to be enough.

"What else can we do?" He asked with a tired smile as he stood from his seat and buttoned up his uniform.

"We keep trying."

He would not give up on humanity.

No matter how hard they tried to make him.

Now… he had a class to attend.

* * *

Ruby watched with guilt as class stopped when Cassiel walked in. It really was not her fault, she struggled to convince herself. They had been so preoccupied with their efforts to spruce up their room and then realizing they had only minutes to reach class in time, that they had all but forgotten the sole male of their team. He really was too quiet for his own good. He was so unobtrusive that he could effortlessly blend into nearly any environment, she hypothesized that she might have even been impressed if not for the fact she was just avoiding the issue at hand.

Cassiel was unusual for a teenage boy. He acted like nothing she had come to expect from his age group. He carried an air of quiet maturity, a pensive presence that reminded her faintly of Headmaster Ozpin. But unlike the headmaster, he seemed more approachable… warm, like a hearth at an inn you might find after a long and arduous journey. There was a bemused gentleness to him that had first made her think that they could be good friends. He spoke a little oddly, like a scholar or one of her more bookish teachers back at Signal. And yet while that had mildly irritated her back then, with Cassiel it was entertaining… charming even, though she flushed at the thought.

The night before he had not even contemplated the notion of taking one of the four available beds in the dorm, and had instead fashioned a little nook of his own in the far corner. She might have thought his decision chivalrous; if not for the fact he seemed entirely comfortable with the idea. She might have likened him to Zwei in the way they shared that faithful deference, but she was aware that he would no doubt be insulted by the very idea of being compared to an animal.

Instead she reminded him of knights from old fairytales, ever polite when speaking with a maiden, yet skilled in battle. It was a comparison that might have made her giggle if not for current circumstance.

Instead she frowned as the boy entered the lesson, several minutes late to the lecture because she had simply forgotten about him in her haste. Her frown deepened as he was met with the collective stares of the entire classroom, and she was in awe that he showed no embarrassment at having been caught out.

"A little late to the lecture, aren't you lad?" The professor inquired, his bushy facial hair and impossible eyebrows rising in what might have been disappointment if anyone could decipher that mess. "This does not bode well for the first lesson of the semester, Mister Aurelian. I'll have to ask you to stay behind after class."

Ruby's heart shrunk.

 _I'm the team leader. It was my responsibility to make sure we all arrived on time._

Yet Cassiel simply nodded in acceptance of his punishment with stoicism far beyond his years, a quiet apology passing through his lips as he moved to take a seat at one of the open spots. And she noticed that though there was a seat for him beside their group, right between her and Pyrrha, he elected to take a place in the far back. He was the only one in the entire classroom that did not sit with their team.

Ruby's soul withered.

And as Professor Port regaled them with past exploits no one else seemed to be interested in listening to, she could hardly give the teacher enough thought to appear as if she cared even a little, sneaking furtive, guilty glances to the boy she was supposed to lead, as he laboriously copied down the professor's inane ramblings with studious due diligence.

* * *

In all honesty, it had been a long time since he felt as amused as he did while listening to the professor's verbose frivolity. A thin, unconscious smile pulled across his lips as he wrote down Port's courageous battle with an ursa, and a genuine chuckle passed through him as he inscribed its legendary defeat into the pages of his notebook, even though he doubted there would be a quiz on this like the man forewarned. His dedication was born more of misplaced fondness than anything else, and he felt an unreasonable need to seem as if he was sincerely interested.

Certainly none of the other students seemed to be.

The professor's narration reminded Cassiel of Lord Shaxx, at least when he had been able to get the other titan drunk enough, which, do to their considerable constitution, usually could only be achieved after heavy consumption of fallen liquor. Say what one must about the wandering space pirates, they could make a brew potent enough to send even a titan off their feet.

His smile sharpened.

Those had been good times… better times. He could not truly recall last when he spoke with Shaxx, or with any other of the Vanguard. It had been so long, and he could only remember so much. He would die his final death far away from his fellow guardians and all of those he had ever come to care for. They would never know what happened to him, just another brave guardian lost to the depths beyond perception of the darkness that threatened to extinguish their light. He had accepted an eon ago that he would never again have an opportunity to see them again, but the bitter sting of that truth had yet to fade nonetheless.

He grimaced.

And they said time healed all wounds.

 _We'll find a way, Guardian. I promise._

Ghost's assurance, though nothing more than an empty platitude, permitted him to return his smile to his face, as false and pretentious as it may be. The idea was nice, and one he only allowed as a pleasant fantasy and nothing more. He could afford to hope no longer. Hope was for fools and optimists.

Cassiel believed himself as more of a realist.

He had accepted his fate some hundred or so years ago, when the charge in his emergency beacon gave its last dying effort, and with it his ill-conceived hope. He would die on Remnant, and it would not be altogether a bad death.

The guardian neatly finished the last paragraph in the professor's story, placing his pen down as he returned his focus upon the class. He might have checked the clock, if he had at all cared for the time. Such a concept meant little to him anymore. It was neither as if he had anywhere to be. So instead he took the opportunity to examine the classroom, at the same time as Port looked for volunteers for some sort of test, a rite of passage if he were to guess.

Feeling no need to prove himself, the guardian did not rise to the task. Anything the teachers might consider a challenge would be beneath someone like him. And he was not interested in attracting attention to himself.

In this setting, he acted more as an observer, and so when the leader of team SALV jumped at the opportunity to preen under the professor's praise, he tapped open his scroll and launched an inane app game.

For all that Ghost could do, he could not turn himself into a gaming device, and for once the machine had no complaint other than a defensive mutter that such things were beneath him as well.

And though he played Enraged Nevermores, outwardly appearing disinterested, he kept an analytical eye on the center floor of the classroom as the girl returned with her weapon and prepared to face the Grimm brought forth for her to combat. From what he learned about Weiss Schnee, she was proud and arrogant, but brave as well, and possessed inherent leadership qualities. He was not overly concerned for her wellbeing.

Some might have balked at the idea of throwing monsters at children, but there were fewer ways to learn better than in the heat of the moment, skill quite as earned as when there was real danger. After all while else had the headmaster thrown them into the Emerald Forest with little warning or explanation, certainly not for some sick sense of amusement.

At least the environment inside Beacon was benign and supervised, judging by the professor that stood by the wall, ready to intervene if the situation developed beyond the girl's ability to control.

Cassiel turned his gaze upon something more important, namely the four people he would be getting to know for the remainder of his duration at Beacon. They were young, but no younger than any of the others here at this school he realized. Rather he was old, he mused with a chuckle as he watched the one who would be his team leader bounce in her seat, watching the fight with rapt attention.

Ruby Rose… she seemed too good for this world. The girl was driven by an exceptional innocence of spirit and purity of soul he had scarcely encountered in his eternal vigilance. It was unfortunate that she had chosen a career that would only ever bring her despair. Innocence would fade in time, her idealism crushed under the overwhelming truth of the real world.

It was at least good that she had her sister with her, particularly as the older woman sincerely cared for her happiness.

His birth family had never cared for him, he doubted they had ever remembered the child they sold to the legion but for the profit they secured at selling such a youth. He hoped they had at least enjoyed the cheap wine at his eternal expense. In a way he was grateful he supposed, his age imparting upon him at least some modicum of wisdom. His life in the legion could have only been infinitely better than whatever such peasantry could provide him. He doubted he would have lived long in a broken home like that.

Certainly it had been tough and grueling; there was little mercy to be found in the profession. But the older men had raised him well enough, taught him everything he needed to know to survive, how to swing a sword, the proper respect for an individual of higher rank, and to always keep a hand on your purse when dealing with women. Ah yes… crude as they were, the soldiers in the legion had been better fathers than the one he had born with.

He missed the life in truth, the simplicity, that sense of comradery.

Being a guardian had not quite felt the same. The purpose was purer, and he had been far stronger fighting under The Traveler than any roman emperor. But none of it, neither the friends he had made nor the lives he had lived, had ever really meant more than that. The stress of his position and the fate of mankind should he fail, had lingered over him in a pall of dread, a constant reminder of the burden he bore, even as he battled ancient machines and slayed gods. It may have made for an excellent motivator, but he could never say he had truly enjoyed it.

He of course missed the tower, missed the other guardians, and he would truly rather be there than here, if for duty more than his content.

But…

Cassiel - a name not truly his own yet one he felt he could at least bear with pride over one he could not - sighed as he realized that he had again slipped into the intricacies of his loquacious memories. Once more exhaustion laid itself upon him, a weariness he could never quite escape.

He felt his arm, under its own volition, press gently against the bridge of his nose, as if to stave off the heaviness lingering behind his eyes. It was moments like these that he questioned the validity of his continued existence.

"Mister Aurelian?" A deep, ponderous voice broke through his misery.

The guardian sat up slowly. Instinctively, his hand moved further up his face to brush through his hair, as if to disguise his lapse in concentration. "Professor Port." He recognized the teacher with the faintest impression of discomfiture at having been discovered during one of his lapses.

The man studied him inquiringly, his eyes scarcely discernable through his notable eyebrows. "Lad when I had asked you to stay after class, it was with the intent to speak with you."

Cassiel looked to the room once more, and noticed that the other students had already departed. He frowned; disappointed that he had been so unawares of his environment. "My apologies, Professor. I must have dozed off." Better that he appear tired rather than incompetent.

Ghost, as ever, maintained its silence.

"Come then lad." The somewhat large teacher motioned for him to follow and the guardian did as instructed, waiting before Port's desk as the man took a seat.

The guardian studied the various curios festooning the desktop, pieces of Grimm, tusks, claws, and talons, each labeled with a note and date undoubtedly commemorating its retrieval, all parts of the creature that could be salvaged if removed before death. He might have wondered why the man would keep such things if he didn't already suspect as much himself.

Every tall tale has at least a grain of truth to it.

"So then… how are you settling in here at Beacon?"

The question honestly caught Cassiel by surprise. He had expected a dressing down, the customary warning about maintain vigilant in one's study and adhering to school rules. He did not have a formal education, but that didn't mean he did not possess a generalized understanding of how things worked.

"I'd like to believe I'm well adjusted."

"Good… good…" Port mumbled, uncharacteristically quiet from what Cassiel understood of him. "My reasoning for you staying behind is twofold dear boy." He finally offered after a minute of uneasy silence. "Headmaster Ozpin has informed me of your… history." Port admitted.

The man's gentle expression caused the guardian no small manner of confusion before he realized what he meant.

Cassiel winced, a spike of irritation flaring briefly.

Ah yes… his history, one Ozpin seemed entirely too eager to craft for him, he would go so far as to add. He had wanted something simple, unobtrusive, something that would not introduce any untoward complications and keep him far under the radar.

Ozpin wanted otherwise.

The enigmatic headmaster certainly had a flare for the dramatic. Or perhaps he was smarter than Cassiel gave him credit. The story he provided would give reason for the teachers to keep an eye on him more than most other students, and they would be more likely to report on him while being kept from the truth.

Personally he thought the bastard just liked spinning tales.

Cassiel listened patiently as the professor declared this and that, offers of support should he need to talk to anyone, promises to cheer him up with boisterous tales of his youth, the kinds of things one offered to people experiencing grief.

At least he hoped that's what it was.

In the end he thanked the man, and assured him that he would come to class on time, and he would certainly like to hear how the professor single handedly wrestled an ursa into submission, whatever would get him out of the room fastest.

The moment he was dismissed he spared no time in leaving, and was out in the hall and well on his way to the next class before the door had even closed behind him, ghost's amused chuckling haunting his thoughts and his steps.

* * *

 _AN: Not much to say this time around other than I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. I've been having a lot of fun with it myself. I always did love Destiny, more for its potential than what it is. I feel as if the games never really captured what it would mean to be a guardian, to dedicate an endless lifetime to the salvation of mankind. I can only imagine how taxing that would be psychologically. And if you guys probably haven't noticed about my writing yet, I do love me some deep musing quandaries._

 _And I am somewhat fascinated by RWBY as well. Remnant is an interesting world with an interesting problem, a kind of problem that could use someone like a guardian. So hopefully you guys are enjoying the crossover. As always feel free to keep me on the right track for characterization. I'm sure you guys probably know more about the people on RWBY then I do, even now after researching it for a little bit._

 _In other news I've been working on a few things lately, almost have the next chapter for Until it is Done ready to go at around 7k words. Work on the next Legacy chapter has started, so luck willing I can get that finished within a month. Put a decent effort into At Duty's End as well, though it's not quite yet ready for another content update. In other news though I started working on my P-atreon story again. And I am trying to get the next update for that out before too long. It's almost finished as well, and should be alright after a little grammar work and maybe a little fleshing out when I have enough free time to really focus on it._

 _All around I'm trying to kick myself out of this slump._

 _Keep the faith!_


	6. To Make a Stand

Chapter 6: To Make a Stand

Cassiel had hoped he would be able to endure the remainder of the school day without further incident. But he was not surprised when events came into play that prevented him from finding the quiet contemplation he so dearly desired. Honestly he should have expected it.

He knew it was foolish to hope.

"Cassiel I'm so sorry we left you behind. It was stupid. As team leader I should have been cogntant enough to realize you weren't with us."

The guardian weathered Ruby's apologetic tirade with a faraway smile, an expression emulated to varying extents by the other members of team RBYCN, or rather Rubicund as the Headmaster anointed them. And while he didn't understand the unusual naming conventions Beacon had for teams, he hardly cared to make an inquiry about it, simply accepting this as another complication of his new existence.

"I believe the word you are searching for is _cognizant,_ Miss Rose." He offered with a polite chuckle. "C-O-G-N-I-Z-A-N-T" He went a step further as to spell the word out for her. "It means conscious or aware."

The girl's face burned with humiliation, no doubt thinking that he was making a joke on her intelligence.

The guardian merely smiled and rested a sympathetic hand upon her shoulder. "It is a fairly advanced word, and impressive that you would even know to use it in correct context at your current age. The matter of grammar is of little consequence."

"That still doesn't make what I did right." She muttered miserably, and he felt her shoulder slump in defeat.

"Perhaps not," he agreed, eyes twinkling with the barest trace of amusement. "But what has been done, is done. You may have made a mistake but it is one I have already forgiven you for. I can hardly demand perfection of someone that has never before experienced the role you have been given. I'm certain Miss Xiao Long is of the same school of thought." He added, looking to the blonde brawler with a slight grin of encouragement.

Thankfully, the girl's sister was observant enough to realize his ploy, and stepped in to guide the conversation away from such dour thoughts.

"Your butler is right, Rubes." Yang returned his smile with an appreciative nod, even as she made a joke at his expense. "It's your first day, heck it's everybody's first day. I think there's some room for leeway here."

"No one's perfect." Blake spoke from her sedate wandering behind their team, the girl imparting her sage advice even as she appeared lost into her book.

Pyrrha, though silent, offered her own help in the form of a smile.

Ruby, as hard as she fought to keep it, could not maintain her dark mood when pitted against such support. The girl giggled happily and swept her sister into a crushing embrace.

Cassiel could almost hear the bones in Yang's body shift.

"Aww you guys, you're the best!" She released her older sister and twirled happily, her cloak flapping wildly as she spun about on her heels. The blonde girl staggered back, gasping as she tried to re-inflate her lungs.

"Yep, totally awesome." She agreed with a wheeze that managed to draw a quiet chuckle from the raven haired girl in the back.

Sensing an opportunity to fade gracefully from the attentions of those around him, Cassiel slowed his pace; watching with a smile as both Yang and Blake soon degenerated into what he was certain would be the foundations for an unusual friendship.

A thought crossed his mind as he walked within the presence of these unusual girls, one he had not truly put that much comprehension into but realized he probably should. These four people were going to be an inescapable part of his life for the next four years. And while time may have not meant as much to him as it did some thousand or so years ago, to them it would not be arrogant to assume it was not such an insignificant matter.

And he supposed, watching with a smile as the blonde firecracker wrapped a hissing Blake into an affectionate headlock, that the next four years just might prove to be interesting enough.

"Not much of a conversationalist are you?"

The question drew his attention away from the two girls that already roughhoused like close friends, and he turned to the red haired individual beside him as Ruby leaped into the fray with, a delighted smile on the small girl's face as she prepared to discipline her underlings with the full and righteous wrath of her appointed leadership powers.

He shrugged, a contrite smirk tugging across his lips. "You seem to have figured me out, Miss Nikos. Your abilities for deduction are truly something to behold. I am, quite accurately put, not much of a conversationalist."

Pyrrha chuckled, her elbow meeting softly against his own as her eyes flashed with emerald mirth. "That seems to have put no hindrance on your eloquence." She looked to him with a joking accusation.

To that he could only offer another shrug, though his had shifted into a smile that was rare in its sincerity. He had not had the chance for ordinary conversation in… quite some time. To say that it was a pleasant change would have been putting it mildly.

 _Not to be rude, but you kinda need this._ Ghost espoused admonishingly. _I can attest to the fact that your conversational skills have… eroded recently. Especially since…_

Cassiel rolled his eyes as the machine went on a long-winded tangent in his head, an entirely distracting experience considering he was already speaking with someone else. Thankfully Pyrrha did not seem to notice his distraction while she sought to keep him engaged in their exchange. In truth, though he would not admit it easily, even under intense scrutiny by his ghost, the guardian did not mind the confusion.

Not when it helped keep his torment at bay.

* * *

His first days at Beacon passed in a repetitive haze that offered a comforting sense of familiarity to the guardian. Everything followed a clearly perceptible configuration, similar in the way that he had structured his life of isolation. And while most people might have balked at the controlled environment found at the academy, he slipped into his role as student with unexpected ease.

It had become a pattern he actually found himself enjoying, if only to a moderate extent. Attend lecture, listen and occasionally intrude upon the playful banter of his team when they inevitably bound him into their repartee, complete his homework, eventually assist his team with their own assignments after a suitable period of pleading, all in all it had become a new, if paradoxically accustomed routine.

And he, as most predictably would after spending so much time around certain people, had started to develop a restrained partiality for Team RBYCN. They were loud, passionate, and juvenile in their clashing personalities, but ultimately individuals possessing a unique generosity of spirit, And while unlearned in the ways of the world, he would at least admit his appreciation for their enthusiasm.

It was for all of these reasons that he made a concerted effort to connect with them, even though it had been uncountable years since he last considered himself a young adult. A week into his scholastic career, and he still did not quite have a grasp on it. He had accepted then, the truth that he probably never would. He was too old… too jaded, for that kind of hapless innocence.

Cassiel, after thinking on it during the nights while his team slept, decided he would be fine with that. He had no regrets in his life, and there were few, if any, that could claim as much. He had made mistakes of course, no one was without error. Not even The Traveler and all its power was immune. He'd heard the stories, just as any other guardian, the truth kept for only those with the wisdom to understand that not even gods were subject from failure.

The Fallen had not earned their title arbitrarily.

His thoughts drifted deeper into reflection; even as Professor Oobleck tore across the classroom in a maelstrom of rapid fire verses and nearly incomprehensible wordage that only just scarcely could be called a history lesson.

Cassiel considered himself a fastidious and dedicated student, but there was only so far he was willing to go to maintain his image. For once, he would let Ghost sort this out. And judging from the machine's protracted silence since the commencement of the lecture, it was being kept quite busy.

Had his ghost enough focus to intrude upon his thoughts it might have offered a reminder that there was often more to stories than what is stated so staunchly. The Fallen were an ubiquitously perplexing conundrum. As a whole the eliksni as they are known in their own tongue, were adamant opposition against the forces of mankind. Whether this was in jealous rage at their perceived betrayal at the whim of The Traveler, or some other point of instigation, was something that had not been answered.

That is not to say of course they all conformed to such beliefs of mindless hate. Every species had their outliers, individuals that did not conform to the established standards. Variks was one such unusual specimen. He may have not been allied with the guardians of the tower, but he was, or had been, loyal to the queen, as loyal as any eliksni could be in any case. And at one point, Cassiel might have even gone so far as to call him friend, as unusual as that may have seemed.

The guardian sighed heavily, watching in mild disinterest as Jaune once again made a fool of himself, ignorant of the intent of the lesson Oobleck was trying to teach them. From the mocking laughter that sprung forth from Cardin Winchester, he was just as blind. General Lagune had failed because of his arrogance. Had he studied his adversaries as any competent leader should, he would have known that he would only be handing the faunus an advantage they sorely needed.

Jaune and Cardin would have known this had they paid more attention to their studies.

He could not remember what happened to Variks, the elusive fallen merchant and sometimes announcer had been an enigmatic sort, even more so than himself. In all their talks he had learned nothing of the creature's past, despite that he had unburdened his own much to the fallen's vast interest.

At least… he thought he had spoken of it with Variks.

His memory was not exactly what it had once been.

 _It was after you defeated Skolas in the Prison of Elders, Guardian._ Ghost interjected softly, a hint of concern wavering briefly in its supposition.

Ah yes… of course. He nodded, grateful for the unsolicited but well-received prompt. Cassiel did not know what he would do without Ghost.

The remainder of class passed quickly, the guardian too drawn into his own thoughts to think to care about the world around him. However this time he made sure to recognize the sound of students departing, and hastened to meet with his team on their way to combat class. As of yet he had luck enough not to be called to fight. With the class consisting of all the first years at Beacon, some hundred or so students, he had a significant period of grace within which to avoid the inevitability, although he was certain it was not all luck. Miss Goodwitch was probably reluctant to allow him to participate as of yet considering the unwanted falsehood of his past that Ozpin had drafted for him.

He was once again impressed with the comprehensive nature of the falsified documents, even if they were a little pedantic and overused, more suited for the dramatics of cinema than the rigors of the real world. Miss Goodwitch would be hesitant to place him against his peers, or rather an opponent that was not Grimm, for fear of how he might react.

Foolish, but kind.

She would not know that he had killed men as much as he had monsters. Not all of mankind was so selfless as to serve the light. And even Gods made mistakes. That every human would work seamlessly for the good of all was nothing but romanticized propaganda fed to the civilians inside their walls, much like what he imagined the council of Vale served blithely to its citizens.

No one was above corruption.

Not even their protectors.

"Hey, you think you'll be called up today?"

Cassiel turned away from the stack of notes he had been compiling into his bag as Yang loomed over him. The blonde haired girl's amethyst irises were alight with eagerness and amusement both, a constant image one would find when they looked upon her, as if there was some unspoken joke that only she knew the punchline to. And for her the punchline was usually as physical as it was in bad taste.

He had watched her fight once during class. It had been… impressive, if unrefined. She had power in remarkable quantity, but no real skill to back it. Yang, for all her anger, would be defeated effortlessly at the hands of a more experienced opponent. However they were being taught to fight Grimm, and the creatures of darkness on this world were little but savage beasts. So in that way she was well on the path of a huntress.

He made to consider her question before offering an insincere shrug in return. "If fate wills it Miss Xiao Long." Cassiel would not care if he was never called forth to participate in their games. He had no need to prove himself to anyone on Remnant. He had earned his honors long before he came to be upon this world.

A flash of indecision quickly washed across her pale features, an unusual expression for a girl he considered to be confident to the extreme. He made his own countenance unreadable as the girl slowly moved to sit beside him. The other members of RBYCN had taken seats around them, their attention directed towards the combat training platform as Miss Goodwitch commenced her traditional introduction for the day's schedule. It was nothing new, the usual reminder of proper student conduct during matches and a brief reintroduction to the aura monitoring equipment.

He paid such a thing little mind, as he instead took in the unusually unsure girl sitting beside him. Yang Xiao Long was a strange creature, bold, rash, and strong, yet possessing an innate protective, peaceable nature that seemed to stand apart from her more obvious personality. Cassiel believed that there was a startling depth to this fiery blonde, a complexity that rarely revealed itself.

A lingering pall of hesitation emanated from her before she finally turned to him to speak, her words hushed but cordial as she spoke low enough as to not be heard by their strict instructor. An uneasy smile decorated her lips as she eyed him with askance amusement. "You know… you can just call me Yang, right? No need for formalities, we're on the same team after all."

The offer, though new from her, was not the first time he had heard such words directed towards him. Jaune just the day before had spoken with much the same intent, as he shared a table with him at the back of the cafeteria, discussing his training among other things. At first the guardian had thought it the teen's way of being friendly, but upon noticing the orange haired demon calling out for his name, Cassiel realized why it was Jaune had approached him.

As before, he considered the suggestion with a mild indifference. Those on teams SALV and RBYCN were good people, young but willing to dedicate their lives to a higher purpose. He respected that as much as he did their notable combat ability. They were not guardians, but they were close.

And that was perhaps the crux of the issue. As much as they wished to befriend him, as close as they were in familiarity of his past, they were not the people he knew. They were strangers he had been convinced to safeguard. They wanted to become friends with Cassiel Aurelian, a young boy from a Mistralian border village. That was a fallacy, a conjuration produced by a whimsical madman in a fit of delusion to allow him infiltration into this school.

He was not Cassiel Aurelian, as much as he might have wanted to be.

He was a guardian, bearing a name he wished he could have forgotten along with his other errant recollections. He did not speak with them as classmates by choice. He could not in good conscience treat them as friends when that friendship would be built on the foundation of a lie. There was only so much of the story he was willing to entertain.

 _You're giving the silent treatment again._ Ghost's admonishment flickered through the back of his mind, reminding him that he had been prompted to respond.

Cassiel looked up from his intense examination of his lap, noticing that Yang was now eyeing him with a hint of concern that was well guarded for a young adult. He might have rolled his eyes at that if not for the fact it probably would have just confused her.

Time had certainly made a ruminating fool of him.

"I… will think on your advice, Miss Xiao Long. But habitats are hard to break. Such a convention may be considered unusual in Vale. But it is quite common back home. I hope you understand."

"Yeah… sure thing, dude." She nodded slowly, her expression revealing that she did not quite understand, but she was willing at least to drop the subject for now. Yang leaned back into her seat, idle fingers, pale and slender, twirling through the lengthy locks of her cascading golden mane. This was perhaps her most impressive, or rather perhaps distinguished feature, and would have been the envy of even the awoken and their incomprehensible and enigmatic quirks.

"As long as you can keep interpreting the incomprehensible garbage that comes out of Professor Oobleck's caffeine soaked brain I won't make anything of it." She spoke again after a few minutes, and he let himself share in her laugh, if only to ease her apprehensions.

"I will endeavor to maintain my usefulness, Mistress Xiao Long." He retorted, his lips pulling into the slightest of smirks as she went red in the face, leveraging a glare at him that only receded when he noticed his grin.

He would at the least act the part for now.

"Sheesh… never would have taken you for such a flirt." She muttered, her tone lost somewhere between an awkward chuckle and nervous laugh. Even then he noticed her shoulders slacken as she relaxed, her thoughts effectively directed away from any more personal inquiry, and the guardian allowed himself a low chuckle.

"I imagine there is a lot you do not know about me."

If she had a reply ready in response it was left unsaid as the first match of the day was finally chosen. Cassiel was unsurprised when a smug Cardin Winchester and nervous Jaune rose from their seats and headed down the aisle to the platform waiting below, one with arrogant swagger and the other in a bumbling stumble of uncertain nerves.

It was hardly a surprise that Cardin would be so conceited, after all he had already beaten Jaune twice before. And Cassiel did not think that was going to change any time soon if the last two bouts were any indication. It might have seemed cruel to continuously pit Jaune against someone who had zero compunction with pounding his face in, but the boy should have expected this after attending a school that existed expressly to train warriors, this was just another test, though a personal one. Jaune needed to learn to stand up for himself, and to realize that not every opponent could be beaten in a contest of strength.

And as the two clashed sword and mace, Cassiel shook his head in disappointment, the conclusion foregone the moment their names had been called.

Some were just too oblivious to learn.

There was more than a difference in strength that worked against Arc, an obvious gap of skill was visible as well. Jaune used his sword in the same way Cassiel had seen recruits in the legion, ignorant of the nuance involved in traditional swordplay. But that was only a small part of a larger problem, and could be corrected with a few lessons. It was his footwork that was most telling about his inexperience, more often his legs were more of an obstacle to himself than Cardin. Worse still the way he swung his sword always left him open for a counter attack. Winchester noticed this as well, and even that moment as he remarked on it the larger boy slammed his weapon into Jaune's side, throwing the blonde across the platform with a vicious chuckle.

The final nail in the coffin however, was his movement.

Either he had not been taught the importance of the economy of motion, or he had never been educated. In melee stamina was everything, almost more so than skill, the ability for one to outlast their adversary's endurance. Each missed or halfhearted sword stroke was a waste of energy and only ensured you would exhaust yourself before the fight commenced in earnest. But he supposed that was perhaps more in correlation with Jaune's age than anything else.

The boy was driven by impatient youth, thinking of constant attack as if sheer persistence would win the day. It would, in point of fact, not. Bouts of arms were only like that amidst children playing at soldiers. Any true swordsman worth his title knew otherwise.

Cassiel sigh coincided with Jaune's limp body falling to the training mat with a groan of pain, while Cardin smirked and boasted his superiority atop his opponent, met by thunderous applause from their peers.

Children playing at soldiers…

Meanwhile, the Grimm lay in wait, amassing their endless legions outside the walls of the kingdoms. But could he fault them for their inaction? They did not know how close they courted extinction. They lacked the foreknowledge he possessed.

They did not have the memories that haunted his thoughts and dreams.

Class continued, and Cassiel drifted off into recollections of the past.

* * *

 _The city would fall._

 _They could not hope to stop the incalculable might arrayed against them, no matter their resolve._

 _Mankind was finally at its end._

 _The guardian looked out from atop the colossal ramparts encircling the Last City, titanic monoliths of reinforced steel and sprawling artillery batteries, entrenched AA guns and mobile armor, supported by thousands of soldiers and a sporadic assortment of guardians, most looming above the tallest man. Before them, an unending host of fallen soldiers and machines of war, stretching out in a vast uninterrupted carpet across the entire continent. The sky was darkened with a fleet of ketches bristling with energy cannons and warrior hosts. Their foe marched in their millions with the might of an intergalactic empire, and they… they were but a few._

" _The wall_ _ **will**_ _hold." Saladin declared beside him, the other titan's firmness steadfast and unyielding. There was no doubt in his mind that they would hold._

" _How can we hope to stand against such numbers?" He asked with a frown. "We are but five hundred strong." There was no fear or hesitation in his voice, no indication that he wanted to flee. The guardian did not despair. He asked only out of honest curiosity._

 _Four orders of titans and a small militia of fellow guardians had arrived in time to defend the city, recalled from all across the system once the fallen armada jumped into orbit. There had been no warning, no inclination of an impending attack until the moment their systems picked up the fleet that had suddenly appeared above Earth. Most guardians had not been swift enough, and were unable to arrive before they were cut off._

" _The wall shall hold because we cannot afford otherwise." Saladin's response was straightforward, spoken more as fact than desire. "Humanity will not perish this day. We are more than five hundred. Or have you forgotten that we have the whole of mankind at our backs, men and women of stalwart hearts and focused minds."_

" _They are not guardians"_

 _His voice, low and soft, carried gently across the breeze stirred up by fallen machines._

 _The lord of Iron turned to the Sunbreaker, a flicker of wordless grief in his hazel eyes. "You mean that they will die."_

 _The guardian nodded slowly, unable to reply as he looked to the soldiers around them. In a way the life of a guardian was more curse than gift, made them feel less than human, incapable of connecting with those they had sworn to protect._

 _Guardians were not brave or courageous. They simply had no fear because they could not die unless in the most impossible battles. When their life ended they could come back, such was not so for the soldiers of man. They did not have the strength or immortality of their protectors, and yet here they were, standing beside them nonetheless in the face of odds that even a guardian balked at._

" _They are stronger than us."_

 _Saladin dipped his head in agreement. "Of that there is no doubt, Sunbreaker. I often fear we have forgotten what it means to be human. But that is a necessary sacrifice if it means we can save our people."_

 _The Iron Lord seemed to muse on something, his eyes roaming across the breadth and scope of the wall. It was a massive construct, as wide as a highway and built more like a fortress in itself than the inner workings of a palisade. There were rooms and corridors beneath them, a maze of ammunition stores and murder holes. Even should the uppermost section be overrun the fallen would still be met with a vicious, close quarter's melee underneath. And it was in such environments that titans truly exceled. They would make the enemy bleed for every inch of ground they stole._

 _Saladin's gaze finally stopped at a table some few feet away pushed up to the crenulations, where a small group of city soldiers were making uneasy conversation while the fallen armies approached._

 _A thin smile appeared on the titan's expression as he shouldered his axe and approached them._

 _Curious, the sunbreaker lowered his rifle and followed._

 _Only a moment passed before the people at the table noticed they were being approached by two of the city's protectors, and they were quick to silence conversation and stumble to their feet with uncertain salutes._

" _L-Lord Guardians." The man with the highest rank denoted by his chevrons, stuttered in a mix of awe and fear at the two giants that stood above them, adorned in heavy plasteel armor and wielding weapons of legend. He was an older fellow, with a beard sprinkled with grey and a deep scar that ran across his eye. This was a man that had fought and bled for the City, and yet he stuttered like a child._

 _If guilty at inducing such a reaction, Saladin masked it well with a friendly smile. "At ease soldiers, I wish only to commiserate with my fellow guardians."_

" _Lord?" The man looked puzzled, seeing only the titan and his comrade._

" _Are we not all guardians of the Last City?" The Iron Lord inquired as he set himself down on the battlement, leaning his axe against the wall beside him. "Are we not all warriors fighting for The Traveler and mankind?"_

" _I-I suppose, Sir." The sergeant admitted with a weak grin, a sentiment that was slowly echoed by his friends._

" _Then are you not a guardian? Is it not the label, but the man that is most important? You stand here with us in the face of insurmountable odds. You would hold the line, willing to die to protect our race. If that does not make you a guardian, I know not else that might."_

 _The sunbreaker allowed himself to smile with them, though they could not hope to see it underneath his helmet._

" _ **A smooth talker as always…"**_ _Ghost mused, the machine watching alongside its guardian as Saladin spoke with their kin with an easy affability that he could never hope to emulate._

 _The sunbreaker could not help but agree._

" _I think…. I think that's what we need right now." He admitted with a sad smile, his gaze drawn once again to the horde marching down upon them. Men would die, guardians would be lost. The wall might fall and with it all of humanity. And yet was that any reason to capitulate? Would they stop fighting just because the odds were bleakly out of favor._

 _No._

 _They would not._

 _Saladin laughed, the titan's boisterous chuckle attracting attention of other people along the wall, guardian and soldier alike as he regaled his listeners with tales of his exploits. And it was not soon after that more approached, laughing and talking, forgetting, however briefly, about the darkness that loomed over them, or the difference between mankind and their light imbued protectors._

 _For but a moment, for the briefest of instants, there were no men, nor women, nor soldiers standing upon that wall... only guardians united in their calling._

 _And was it not a guardian's duty to defend the people, even if it was from their own despair?_

 _Was it so wrong to hope for a future?_

* * *

The memory was particular in that it was perhaps the one he was most fond of, a momentary lull of sanity before the madness that fell upon them in the months' long siege that followed. By its conclusion it would become history, and then legend, a critical junction in human history and a lesson in perseverance in the face of impossible odds. And when the days grew darkest they would look back upon that moment where a broken and struggling humanity fought back against impossible odds, and sent their foes' corpses tumbling from the ramparts.

"Whatch ya doodling?"

Cassiel looked up from his cot, the guardian reclined upon the thin mattress as he scrawled idly into his notebook. Ruby towered over his prone form, the girl's pajama's visible only barely underneath the heavy blanket she drew across her shoulders. Across the room the window panes were pulled aside, allowing the cool night air to cool the door room and the reason for her current wardrobe.

"Nothing of consequence." He finally admitted, briefly glancing at the sparsely sketched four part hexagon before he set the notebook down.

Nothing but old memories.

The school day had concluded after combat class, and after several hours in the library occupying himself with literature he had yet to finish, he had returned to the dormitory once darkness set.

It was not long after that the rest of his team returned as well.

He paid little attention to them at first, musing as he had been upon memories of his past, those that still came easily anyways. It was only now when Ruby spoke with him that he was driven from his contemplative stupor.

With his sketchbook displaced, the guardian studied the room in closer detail, noticing that the rest of Team RYBCN was in the process of settling in for the night. He smiled, watching as Yang argued with Pyrrha through the bathroom door, some inane squabble about shower usage. Blake shared his role as silent spectator from her lofty perch upon her bed, a small reading light attached to her book as she split her focus between the two, both no doubt equally interesting.

"I was wondering…"

Cassiel pulled himself away from his amused observation as Ruby crossed her legs and sat down beside his floor born bed, the girl shifting apprehensively. And it was then that he noticed the sheaf of papers clutched uneasily in her hand, the pages cluttered with hastily inscribed words and questionably used grammar.

The guardian smiled, a low and pleasant laugh surfacing from within his chest.

"Of course Miss Rose, I would be glad to help."

He was impressed that she could look so grateful and embarrassed simultaneously. "It's not like I want you to do my work for me I was just hoping that you might be able to proof read my essay you know how Professor Oobleck can be and he always seems to be impressed by your… work so maybe… yeah." Her run on rambling slowly trailed off as she recognized his leisurely smile, something she had noticed about him whenever she started to rattle off.

'Right…" She mumbled softly, her cheeks puffed in a pout and dusted a muted red.

"You need not say more, Miss Rose. I would be glad to assist my team leader however possible." He assured her, accepting the pile of disheveled papers she then held out for him to take, muttering one last long winded tirade of apologies as he began to scan the first page.

Though she did not need to, Ruby stayed sitting next to him while he skimmed her report on the final days of the Faunus Civil War, as if she wanted to share in any of his perceived discomfort. This was just another trait about the girl that he so admired. It was a cute gesture, though lacking in any real use.

Yet another thing he appreciated about her was her acceptance of criticism, listening politely and attentively as he informed her on any gaps in her knowledge or mistakes in spelling. She did not argue, at least not in any serious capacity, more often than not just to draw a smile or laugh from him while he worked.

And surprisingly, it worked.

"And you see that's why you must put the apostrophe _after_ the s to indicate plural possession of an item or shared trait, or in this specific case because the word already ends in an s and you would not normally pronounce it with two." Ruby sat at his side, looking over his arm at the sentence he indicated with a pen, underlining the final point of contention in her essay. "Instead of _The faunus's fight for equality continues to this day._ It should instead read as _The faunus' fight for equality continues to this day,_ like I've written it here, see?"

The girl nodded slowly, her face scrunched into one of deep concentration as she dutifully tried to commit his words to memory. "I think I do." She admitted, her expression softening as she looked to him with a wide smile, her teeth flashing brightly in the low light of the dorm room.

"Thanks for the help Cassiel, you're the best!"

Ruby swept him up into one of her crushing embraces, the guarding enduring it in stoic fortitude that was broken only by the warm smile he displayed. "Of course, I only hope this helps your grade."

She released him quickly, and hurriedly gathered her scattered papers. "Oh it definitely will!" She assured him with a giggle. "My paper was utter garbage. But now that you looked over it I know I'll get an A for sure!"

"What's this I hear about guaranteed A's?" A familiarly loud voice cut into their concluding conversation, one he recognized as the eldest of the two siblings.

Ruby turned upon hearing her sister and blanched, her face paling to a bleached white as she adopted a look of utter mortification. "Y-Yang what are you _doing?_ " She hissed.

"What?" The blonde asked with a smirk that was a touch too innocuous as she the wrung out the golden hair that fell wetly from her shoulders. "I just thought that I'd see how my little sister's English skills were holding up."

"Yeah but you… not like… Yang _put some clothes on!_ " Ruby squawked in deathly embarrassment.

Cassiel watched their interplay for but a bemused moment before opening an article on his scroll to peruse while he waited for their impending sibling squabble to subside. Yang Xiao Long, amongst many things, was also an incorrigible philandrist. She was intensely aware of how her appearance affected hormonal youths of her age. More than this, Yang was also somewhat of a mischief-maker, and she no doubt sought to make him uncomfortable by her current state of dress. Had he been anyone else other than what he was, he might have been uneasy at having a young woman of curvaceous figure adorned in not but a bath towel and a salacious smirk, anywhere near him.

The guardian instead rolled his eyes as he opened a news report on the net, perusing information released by the VPD on recent White Fang activities, his focus drifting to something more worth his attention, however disheartening it was to read about the pacifistic moment turned violent.

He remembered them from his life before his seclusion.

Noble aims carried by noble hearts. But as ever, Remnant proves its ability to tear down even the noblest of intentions. They spurned their sympathetic roots with the imprudent notion that violence would bring about change. And in a sad way they were right, but it would not be the change they desired.

Set as they were on this path, there would be only one broken and bleeding race to stagger triumphantly away at the end. And they would not survive long enough to enjoy their meaningless victory.

"Remnant to Cassiel, come in Cassiel."

Yang's soft toned but boisterous voice intruded upon his musings on a dark future. The guardian, banishing such dour thoughts, flicked the deactivation button for his scroll and returned his attention to the environment around him. It would do for his team to learn of his concerns. He did not need them prying where they were not welcomed.

Yang, as well as her sister, still stood across from him, though by now the fair-haired girl looked to have had her lack of apparel addressed, and judging by the scuff marks on the furniture nearby and the overall disheveled state of both sisters' nightwear, it had been a climactic battle for the ages.

Blake remained as she had, her amber eyes deep into the book she held, though there was a faint rose tint to her pale cheeks. And Pyrrha had already seemed to have turned in for the night, the girl snoring lightly in her bed. How she managed to find sleep with the likes of Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long in near proximity, as something he wondered in that moment.

"This is Cassiel, go ahead Remnant." He retorted good-humoredly. The titan hoped he could keep them further distracted from his true concerns with a token gesture of comradery.

Yang's grin deepened as she dropped languidly to the ground beside his floor mat… bed. It was hard not to confuse it sometimes.

"Is the Cassiel tutoring institute for troubled and lazy youths still open?"

A wad of crumpled paper was thrust tentatively before him, a cluttered mess far scruffier than even Ruby's disastrous handwriting. Cassiel looked up from the offered bundle, to a pair of nervous lilac eyes set within an equally uneasy expression, and smiled warmly.

"Of course, Miss Xiao Long, my doors are never closed to those in need." Being a guardian was about more than defending humanity. Their purpose was not only to secure salvation, but to light the way to the golden age that had been lost to their people, the very reason they had been created, why the traveler gave pieces of itself away to act as guides and messengers to its newest legates.

And while he was not combating the darkness as he taught Yang about the history and education of a world he wanted no part in, his efforts were no less meaningful as if he had been waging a one guardian war in the heart of the Grimmlands.

* * *

 _AN: Still seem to be able to crank these out with some modicum of reliability. Can't rightly tell why that is, for some reason this story just comes easier to me, at least for the moment. In any case I hope this chapter finds you all in good health and sentiment, and that you are enjoying this just as much as I am. Also a reminder for those who did not read the newest chapter for Stranded Beyond Hope. There's an opinion poll of sorts on my profile, just something where I can check the standing and interest of my various stories. I'd sure appreciate it if you guys would drop your input down over there, so I can get some kind of read for where the most popularity lies._

 _One last bit of news pertaining to this story, and a point of embarrassment for me. Some of you may have no doubt noticed that Cassiel's last name has changed somewhere along the story. That's entirely my fault. Both Aurelian and A_ _urelius were last names I had thought on, and one can perhaps see why it was so easy to slip into such a mistake. For the use of this story Aurelian fits better considering the particular time in roman history the guardian originates from, aka the short lived Aurelian Dynasty. I think it fits the overall thematic nature of Cassiel, who if you have not guessed yet already, is largely focused around the solar sub class of a Sunbreaker. With the nature of the The Emperor Aurelian and the cult he established of that time, it works well for its purpose. So I will be using that from now on, and hopefully if I am not too lazily, I'll go back and correct the inconsistencies._

 _Again please excuse any typos or other general weirdness, damn things seem to pop up just when I think I've got them all._

 _Drake_


	7. Tower of Glass

Chapter 7: Tower of Glass

Blake was not yet sure what to make of the lone male of Team RBYCN. When not focusing on her studies or novels, or avoiding Yang, she devoted a moderate amount of her thought into attempting to discern the unusual teenage boy called Cassiel.

He was quiet and reserved, which when the entirety of the rest of the team was anything but, came as a pleasant blessing amidst the madness of their dorm room. But there was something else about him that intrigued her, and set her teeth on edge.

Cassiel was an individual with secrets.

Of course everyone had secrets, but those were usually prefaced by the understanding that they were normal. For Ruby the girl tried to hide her obscene cookie consumption from her sister, and Yang thought no one noticed when she left sometimes at night to head into Vale and visit the various… establishments that could be found at late hours. Even Pyrrha had secrets, or at least she thought she kept her loathing of her title and reputation hidden. But anyone that spent more than an hour around the girl would figure out as much. She of course, had things she wanted to hide as well.

Cassiel was different.

She had a nose for these kinds of things, and not because of her unique heritage. Her intuition was telling her that his secrets were not the kind of things a teenager should have, much like her own. What's more, when he thought he was unobserved he… changed. It was not something easily noticed, and she knew that perhaps the only reason she could even tell was because of her own past. When she saw him in those rare moments she could not help but think he looked… old… tired, as if worn down by several lifetimes of hardships.

And that's what threw her off.

How could a boy on the cusp of manhood already be so world-weary? What is it that could make someone so young, so jaded? She asked this question to herself sometimes when he laughed or smiled, where but for a brief moment one observant enough could see his façade crack ever so subtly.

Even now, as she studied him from over the top of her book as he sat amidst both their team and team SALV in the deafening confines of Beacon's cafeteria, she noticed these things.

"So… what's your story? Who exactly is Cassiel Aurelian?" Ren asked the taciturn youth during a lull in the table wide conversation. It was an unusual play from a predominately reserved individual, someone that did not often maintain a vocal presence in the day-to-day conversation. This step away from the norm was created more by who he asked rather than any true change in character. In a way Ren and Cassiel were two sides of the same coin. One clearly, at least to her heightened curiosity, possessed something obscurer than the other, but of everyone present, they perhaps had adjusted to each other faster than most.

Ren seemed glad to find someone else that preferred quiet contemplation, or more correctly, thought before action, and Cassiel must have seen the same in the introspective boy from team SALV. Neither were particularly active speakers, though that changed when they shared the same location.

Blake watched the table slowly grow silent, those not involved from either team attempting their best to seem uninterested in the topic. Such efforts were poorly made, and if she could see this, undoubtedly Cassiel could as well.

The boy in question smiled knowingly, a look only herself and Ren could accurately decipher for its true intent as he leaned forwards, placing his arms close to his chest and against the cool metal surface of the cafeteria table.

She would admit to some passing interest herself, whether this was directed at a possible threat or genuine intrigue she did not yet know. Those like her were naturally curious, mayhaps that was where her interest originated from. He was nearly as enigmatic as she tried to be, and while she had her reasons, Blake had yet to discern his.

"There really is not that much to tell." He admitted finally after a moment's pause, and _somehow_ she just knew that was a lie. Certainly the faint glimmer of amusement that crossed his features was telling enough for that. "I imagine it is not much different from any other student who was raised on the frontier. I was conceived by a mother and father, I learned to survive and I eventually came here."

Blake chuckled sullenly, her morose amusement masked by the loud chatter saturating the room from a legion of young voices.

For an explanation about his past it was infuriatingly vague and unambiguously blunt.

Judging by the sour expressions of those feigning disinterest, they were not pleased either.

She wondered if this was perhaps all a front. Maybe Cassiel was being this way on purpose to attract attention to himself. Surely he could not be so naïve as to thing acting so distantly would only ensure continued interest from anyone that spent any length of time around him. She considered the thought that this was really a ploy. He might desire to be the center of attention. She had known a few people like that before. It was not an altogether uncommon tactic.

And yet… when she looked into his eyes she did not take him for a narcissist. What was more important, his eyes reminded her of her own, cynical and guarded.

Cassiel was someone with something to hide.

Blake intended to be the one to discover what exactly that was.

"Who trained you to fight so well?" Someone else asked, eyes of sparkling amethyst and a flowing mane of golden curls identifying the one that gave Blake the most trouble. Yang was, in a way, more infuriating than the boy she questioned. At the least he was content enough to leave her to her idle reading, the blonde menace… her partner, was not so lenient.

She was not sure she would survive another one of the girl's _bonding exercises_ as Yang so lovingly and horribly called such awful experiences. Blake shuddered, and her bow twitched as a shiver trickled down her spine.

Things like that could never be forgotten.

"I am self-taught… mostly." Cassiel answered in reply to the girl's question, a hint of visible discomfort surfacing for the first time that day. "I did receive some formal training at first from a few instructors, but most of what I know I learned through… trial and error."

Amber eyes sharpened, preceded by lips that curled into a smug, feline-like grin.

A clue if she had ever heard one. For someone to be good enough to be accepted into Beacon without any serious formal training was significant in itself. It would seem she was not the only one that made it in by the grace of the Headmaster's intervention. But what exactly was it that the man saw in Cassiel?

Blake's examination deepened, but could not see any indication that their similarities extended any farther than their accrued mutual interest. While he could be keeping such a thing hidden, she was fairly confident she would have been able to learn the truth. She had been the one with the sharpest eyes back in her old circle of friends.

"I would not think it with the way you move." Her own voice broached the silence as she lowered her book enough to show her interest in the conversation. As loath as she was to put any attention on herself, her desire for answers was more powerful.

"What do you mean?"

Cassiel for all appearances seemed innocently confused, but she could see his hesitation, the way his outwardly indifferent eyes hardened but a fraction. He moved an arm, on instinct, closer to his chest, where he could more easily react to something unexpected.

Or at least that's what she thought she saw. Paranoia had made her see things that were not there before. Yet blind faith had already steered her down a road she should not have followed. So while she did not make anything of his movement, she did not forget it.

"You don't walk like the other students." She decided that she would explain in further detail, if only to make both teams more aware of the oddity that was their classmate. "You hold yourself like someone overly familiar with a sword." _More than a student should be…_ Was what she wanted to say, but she was not here to denunciate him for something that might not exist. She would need proof before she made any accusations.

Nonetheless she had noticed this peculiarity because he carried himself a lot like Adam. Their movement was near identical. They walked with confidence, and the lithesome mutability of a dancer. More alarming than that, they shared the same commanding presence, that dangerous and focused drive. They both had the calm and collected disposition of men with the determination to change the world.

Like Adam, he walked as a wolf would amongst sheep.

Blake watched Cassiel, at the way his guarded expression soon gave way to a startlingly earnest smile. And in that way she learned that there was something that differed him from Adam. He could still grin in a way that was believable, something that was more than an expertly crafted façade.

She could look at Cassiel's smile and _believe_ it.

"Well just because I'm self-taught doesn't mean I haven't had a lot of practice." He offered his explanation with a soft chuckle, the warmth in his laugh honestly surprised her in a way she had not expected. It was… alluring, perhaps not in a romantic way, but in a way that made her want to laugh herself, even if she could not tell why. She had never noticed such before, though that could be attributed to the fact he had never quite engaged her on a one-to-one level till now.

She… she liked the way he laughed, a free lackadaisical sound that relieved the tenseness in her muscles like a pleasant massage. In that moment she hardly cared that her bow twitched, the appendages concealed within twitching contentedly at the pleasing noise of his laughter.

It was with a great effort to mask her smile that she conceded his point, choosing to return to her book and think on her newfound knowledge. That was not an attempt to escape an awkward situation, not at all. She was just recouping with valued Intel.

Blake studiously ignored the smug look on yang's face as she glanced not so subtly in her direction, knowing that she would no doubt later be forced under extreme torture and threats of more… bonding, to divulge whether or not she had sparked a sudden idealistic interest in their intrepid male teammate.

Seriously that girl could be so childish at times.

She sighed and flicked to a new page in her novel, attempting to tune out the rest of the time until they were to head to their next class. And for a while things were good, the teams continued to chat with each other as they worked at their trays, and she thought that they might at least get through one lunch period without Nora causing an incident.

Blake supposed she was right if only on that one part.

It was not Nora that would prove to disrupt their peaceful repast, but rather a distasteful brutish boy sitting across from their table.

She grit her teeth at the feminine cry of pain that leaped into the air, the sound of discomfort followed by the mocking laughter of several boys. Blake flashed her eyes across the table, amber irises inflamed with anger at the student standing so imperiously over the cowed figure of a rabbit faunus, a hand clutched cruelly around her ear.

Cardin Winchester barked another derisive laugh as he tugged on the furred lobe, the sound nothing like the one she had enjoyed hearing. This time it only filled her with disappointment and impotent rage.

"Wow… so they are real. I couldn't believe it until now. So how big is your family anyway? You must have a ton of brothers and sisters. You would know how rabbits are more than I would." The sickening grin on his face was enough to turn her stomach.

"They are just animals after all."

Such was suffering dealt upon the faunus once again playing center stage for all to see. Conversation around the cafeteria had lessened, and Blake could see most people turning away from the scene, or staring on much in the way she did, with the desire to help but with the fear of becoming involved. As arrogant as Cardin was, he did possess some modicum of capability in combat, and it was not unusual for him to best most of the other students that Miss Goodwitch assigned against him in combat class.

So it was that they all watched and did nothing.

And if that did not speak of the interplay of the faunus rights movement, she did not know what else might.

"Someone ought to teach that asshole a lesson." Yang growled quietly, her teeth bared indignantly as she cut a furious look to Cardin and his pack of fellow persecutors. The young blond brawler might have intervened herself, if not for the fact she was already on Miss Goodwitch's radar. Unsurprisingly, one could not just start fights in the hall whenever they wanted.

"He really isn't very nice." Ruby agreed with a look of sadness on her face. "And Yang… swear." She muttered scolding at her sister, though her heart was not in the words. The poor girl would have done something, if not for her timid nature, instead she watched with sympathetic eyes. And Blake knew that she would later seek out the faunus girl to offer a few words of support. Ruby might not have had the confidence to help directly, but she had her ways.

"This is not the first time, and I fear it will not be the last." Ren admitted with a quiet defeat. "A tiger can't change its strips."

"But you sure can beat it off them!" Nora pipped up helpfully, the girl clenching the table tight despite her smiling face. "And if that doesn't work we can always break his legs!"

In any other situation Blake might have balked at the girl's words, and yet, for Cardin, she would not raise a fuss.

Weiss had nothing to say it would seem, though Blake did notice that her jaw was clenched tightly, interesting enough. Jaune was perhaps the one closest to doing something, though the boy sat hopelessly beside his partner. If he could not beat Cardin in the ring, what hope did he have in confronting him outside of it?

The first inclination of action Blake heard was a quite sigh coming from across the table.

Curious, she turned her gaze to Cassiel as he pushed his tray away and moved to stand with a resigned finality. His lips moved as if speaking with someone nearby, but whatever words he spoke were beyond her hearing. The rest of the table soon looked to him intently when they finally noticed, but before anyone could say anything he was already gone.

It was like watching a car wreck happen before your eyes. The entire lunch room was now silent, the entire student body watching as the boy crossed the short distance to confront the abusers.

Blake herself watched with bated breath as he stood tall before Cardin and his cackling hyenas, his shoulders squared firmly and a look of thinly veiled disdain adorning his aristocratic features.

"Mr. Winchester…" He voiced politely, finally catching the other boy's attention as Cardin released the girl's ear and shifted the full bulk of his imposing physique to the one that dared interrupt his fun.

Near them the faunus girl watched the impending confrontation with fearful eyes, too stricken by indecision bred by fear to take the opportunity to run.

"The hell you want?" Cardin demanded with a snarl, closing the distance between them with an aggressive step forward. Such a play might have been intimidating if not for the fact they stood near eye to eye. And even then the bully had to incline his head slightly to match the silver eyes that studied him condescendingly.

"Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I see that you are doing nothing of significant import." Cassiel replied with a tone of clear derision, and Blake grinned as she noticed the muscles in his arm coil. "In fact what I see when I look at you, Mister Winchester, is little more than a petulant child tormenting others for his own sick amusement."

Rage blotched across Cardin's face, the paleness of his expression darkening red as blood rushed underneath his skin. "Who the hell do you think you are huh?" He snapped heatedly, stepping even closer till they almost bumped noses. It was clear he was moments away from blowing a fuse, and his underlings were quick to put distance between themselves and the imminent fireworks.

"I'm just someone that is tired of listening to your ignorance and mindless hate."

Things then became interesting, more so than Blake could have ever anticipated.

"Do you even know why you hate them so?" Cassiel asked, his disdain softening as he glanced piteously at Cardin. "Do you even understand where your hatred comes from? Or is it just instinct? The very same way a hound barks threateningly at a passing car to assert its vain dominance? If that is the case I ask if that is what you are, Mister Winchester. Are you just an animal?"

If the room was quiet before, the silence was deadening once Cardin's fist slammed into Cassiel's face. As mad as he was the blow had hit at full aura augmented strength, and Cardin was by no means a weak man. The sound was deafening in the silent cafeteria, the solid _crack_ of bone striking bone.

"I am _NOT_ an animal!" Cardin exploded, the boy trembling as he seethed with incredible rage, more than would have been expected from a schoolyard insult.

The entire room watched as Cassiel took a single, graceful step back, following the inertia of the impact for only a moment before he composed himself once more. And he did the same when Cardin struck again… and again… and again.

Blake watched in confusion and perhaps even a little fear as Cardin assaulted her teammate with the full force of his anger, a continuous roar of rage vomiting from his mouth as he relentlessly pummeled the other boy. Cardin didn't care where, he just kept landing blows.

Why didn't Cassiel fight back? Why was he just standing there and taking it?

Why was no one stopping this?

The answer should have been obvious, and it only took her a moment to figure out why.

The other students were too stunned to react. The teenagers here, for all their experience and skill, were not accustomed to real hate shared between two people. They had been trained to fight Grimm. That was all they thought about, all they knew. It had probably never occurred to them that they might have to one day encounter a situation like this.

Ruby was stuck somewhere between a look of incomprehension and a dismayed gasp, her hands raised to her mouth in silent horror. And her sister looked about ready to jump across the table and pound Cardin's face into bloody mush. Pyrrha, her face ashen, sat wooden in her seat, The Invincible Girl lost beyond words.

Ren looked to his partner, a sadness lingering behind his pink eyes as he held tightly onto Nora's hand, likely all that was preventing the girl from doing just as she had already advertised previously. The boy seemed to have a better understating of what was going on than anyone else.

Jaune blanched, likely from witnessing what probably would have happened to him if he had tried to confront Cardin himself. And his partner, proud heiress of the SDC as she was, hardly seemed to care.

Blake only wondered why it was that Cassiel had allowed this to happen in the first place. She knew, just by glance, that he was far stronger than Cardin was, not just physically, but in combat experience. He could have easily avoided his attacks, more than that he could have put the schoolyard tyrant in the same position he now suffered in. That's what Adam would have done after all, fighting the violence with violence.

"Why?" Cardin demanded, heaving with exhaustion as he clenched the wet and red collar of the other boy's uniform shirt in a bloodied fist, his eyes wild but no longer fully enraged. Instead he looked to Cassiel with a profound confusion. This was not what was supposed to happen. This wasn't the usual routine. Disgruntled party A confronted disgruntled party B, they fought, hashed out their problems, and the world kept spinning.

They weren't supposed to…

He wasn't supposed to…

"Why won't you fight back?" He finally asked the burning question that made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Because…" Cassiel replied, spitting blood from his mouth to answer the demand, as composed and patient as he had been at the start of the conversation.

"I don't fight children."

In the end it was the look of sympathy and understanding in the eyes of the boy he had just brutally assaulted, that broke Cardin's red haze. He released him and sunk to his knees, defeated by a logic he did not quite understand.

A hand fell upon his shoulder then, and he tore his gaze from the floor and looked up, hardly able to meet Cassiel's eyes, or the ugly twist to the nose he had broken. He was ashamed, perhaps not for standing up for himself but for the fact he lost control, attacked someone that did not fight back. This was different from the usual; he had crossed a line he had never wanted to cross.

But that did not seem to matter to the boy standing above him, and the hand he clasped against Cardin's shoulder was almost fraternal, the tone he took as the admonishment of an older brother imparting a lesson upon the younger.

"One cannot build the foundation for a better world on the substance of hate, Mister Winchester. It is like erecting a tower made only of glass. The design might be sound, but the material itself is flawed."

Cassiel smiled, his teeth colored red with blood that ran from his nose and dribbled off his chin.

"Do not hate what you do not understand. Instead seek peace in understanding. From such building blocks the strongest worlds are built. And fear not Mister Winchester… you are forgiven for your actions this day, as long as you have learned from them."

And with such parting words he turned his back on Cardin, left the boy kneeling, confused and yet… humbled. He had indeed learned something today, but he was not quite yet sure what that was.

"Hey… you alright man?" Russel asked as he moved to help Cardin stand, his efforts assisted by the other members of their team.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." He replied distantly, his mind a world away.

* * *

Blake watched as Cassiel approached the fallen faunus girl, helping her to her feet and asking about her health, even as blood trailed down his clothes. The room was filled with noise again, and with conversation and attention focused on the fallout of the confrontation she was grateful that no one noticed that her hands were shaking.

"Jeez… he's one serious mother fucker, with all those metaphors and shit." Yang muttered quietly to herself, her crass words coming off as a surprise. Though one look at Ruby as she hissed and turned to lecture her sister on the evils of swearing, anyone could see why she had. It was a distraction that would have only worked on someone as young as her, and would keep the girl from rushing across the cafeteria and making another scene.

Even still Yang was not entirely wrong.

Blake took a moment to compose herself, throwing up the guise of indifference around herself once more. Cassiel's words had hit her harder than she might have expected, although the topic was one of contention for her and had been for many years.

At the very least it had given her much to think about.

Thoughtful eyes of deep amber studied Cassiel's retreating figure as he disappeared into the men's restroom inside the lunchroom.

* * *

 _Hurts does it?_

"Not all that much." Cassiel mumbled unconcernedly as he grasped his nose and wrenched it back into place with a wet _crack_. The pain was negligible and he hardy flinched as he set the broken cartilage in the correct place to heal. His augmented healing would prevent any lasting medicinal measures. He'd probably have full functionality returned to his nose by the end of the day. It was a small price to pay for the opportunity to impart a life lesson.

 _You know when I asked you to help that girl out. I didn't mean get your ass handed to you by a child._

Ghost's blasé amusement was somewhat irritating, but he only offered a shrug in return. He had not lied to Cardin. He was not in the habit of fighting children. That was unprofessional. And besides, it would not have been fair to the boy, disturbing racist tendencies or not.

 _Well in any case I am not the one that looks like shit._

Cassiel looked into the mirror and frowned, the foul expression further worsening his already bloodied and bruised features. His focus inevitably continued down and away from his face as he took in the state of his clothes with a lingering sigh of acceptance. He doubted he would be getting any more mileage out of his current uniform, which meant he would be late to next class since he would have to head back to the dorm and change. That probably meant he would be spending another detention with Port.

Honestly not a terrible punishment, but certainly an inconvenience at the least.

 _Guardian, guests on your six o'clock…_

"Hey there dude, are you… feeling alright?"

Cassiel shut off the water faucet to the sink and turned to the two boys that must have followed him from the table. "I'll be fine, thanks for asking though, Jaune."

"Sure thing!" The blond replied with an easy go lucky smile and an self-conscious laugh that originated from the sincerity in his tone. "What are friends for?"

"It is good to see no lasting damage given the circumstances." Ren smiled carefully, the boy's pink irises taking in the state of Cassiel's clothes with a raised brow. "Though I cannot say the same for your uniform, Cardin took things too far. I would suggest speaking with Miss Goodwitch about possible disciplinary action, if that is what you wish of course."

Ren was not entirely wrong to suggest that. A fight, or an attack rather, like that was reason enough to possibly indict on a charge for assault and battery. Something like that could get him expelled, if not a stain on his permanent record.

He did not think Cardin deserved that, for all his faults.

"That won't be necessary." The guardian shook his head, wiping away the last of the blood with a few sheets of paper towel he grabbed from the nearby dispenser. "I imagine he's learned enough from this experience. I see no reason to purse any further litigation."

Ren nodded his understating and did not press the issue. Instead the boy grabbed a handful of wipes and, after wetting them from a sink, moved to help him clean his uniform to the best of his ability. Jaune, seeing the gesture, was quick to offer his own help.

Cassiel, at first, was befuddled by their actions, until he realized they were just doing what anyone would do for their friend in this situation. A warm feeling flickered in his heart, one he had not felt in a long time.

It was... a nice sentiment.

By the time they were finished it had been several minutes, and they had very nearly filled the entire trash bin with bloody towels. The uniform still might not have been recoverable, but at least he could make the trip to the dorm room without attracting too much attention.

"There, should be good enough for now I think." Jaune stepped away, examining him with a critical eye. A few seconds later and he nodded confidently to himself. "Yeah, that should work."

"Indeed, you now only look partially mauled." Ren interjected with a thin smile.

Cassiel looked to both of the boys, his lips curled slightly in recognition of their concentered efforts. "Thanks guys I… I appreciate it." And he did, he well and truly did. It had been a long time since he felt able to rely upon someone else, however small the gesture was. Ghost scoffed good-humoredly at that, but went ignored for the moment. Unusual, that such a simple thing could mean so much. He supposed it was more the unspoken, implicit nature of their assistance that carried the most weight.

"Hey, it's like I said." Jaune retorted with a laugh. "What are friends for?"

He wanted to say that he didn't know, that it had been so long since he had someone other than Ghost, but he only smiled, offering his hand for them both to shake.

The two youths were quick to accept the gesture of comradery

"Now then, we should get going before we are late too late to class."

Deciding that Ren's advice was well made, Cassiel followed the pair outside into the lunchroom. By now the other students had filed out, no doubt well on their way to their respective classes. Both Cardin and the girl he had helped were gone, and but for a few janitorial staff there was not really anyone left inside.

At least none that he had expected.

"There he is! There's the hero of the hour!" Yang bragged verbosely, her arms swept upwards in a grand gesture as she lithely leaped from her lazy repose on a lunch table, sauntering her way over with a fiery smirk.

A smirk that turned into a wince when Ruby hammered her elbow into the blond girl's side with a roll of her eyes. "What this dummy means to say, is that it's good to see you're alright."

Cassiel spared a smile for the older sister before looking down to Ruby with a chuckle. "I have to be to maintain my heroic figure in Miss Xiao Long's eyes. I'd hate to disillusion the poor girl."

The smile upon his face, finally, for the first time in more than a hundred years, met with his eyes as he realized that not only his own team had stayed behind, but so had Jaune and Ren's. They were all there, a crowd of young adults huddled about the entrance to the men's bathroom. How foolish they must have looked to the faculty cleaning the tables, but in that moment he hardly cared.

Joking like this, in the way one did with friends, was unusual for him, something he had not really bothered with since he came to be on Remnant. It'd been so long since he could find the time to relax, act as anything other than a guardian. There'd always been more pressing concerns, and he'd never had people he considered close enough to let his guard down with, not on this world anyways.

Perhaps it was the fact they were children, or at least at a young enough age that he didn't have to be wary around them. Was that really why he treated them differently? Because they were not actively betraying his trust? It was truly a sad day when teenagers were more reliable than most grown adults.

And yet they were unlikely to have the hidden agendas of the likes of Ozpin. He didn't have to worry about them gathering information or trying to discover his secrets, or use him for unknown plans. He was… glad that they were so different. But the feeling was bittersweet. As pleasant as it was, all of this, everything that made him who he was in Beacon, was just a lie.

More words were shared but their intent was unknown to him, and his smile dimmed however slightly. Right then he was far too troubled to pay them much heed. However whatever it was he said seemed to be the right thing, and soon it was that they left the lunchroom, both teams having decided to wait for him, consequences be damned.

Was this what friendly solidarity felt like?

If so, then why did it hurt to feel it?

The answer, however, was painfully obvious.

In that moment, as Yang reached out to pat his arm encouragingly, as Ruby enfolded him in an embrace and Jaune, Ren, and the other members of the two teams shared in the friendly atmosphere, they were befriending a boy who did not exist.

* * *

Blake hummed quietly to herself, a look of deep thought furrowing her brow as she slipped into her bed, the book in her hands largely ignored in favor of this currently far more fascinating subject. She had been unable to tell the exact moment his smile changed, but she knew it had happened after lunch. It was this quandary that proved to be more and more engaging as the day passed by. Cassiel had undergone three distinct changes in the way he smiled since his confrontation with Cardin that afternoon.

The first, as usual, had been the disguise, the one used most likely as a response mechanism during conversation, rather than anything genuine. Then there was the second, the one closest resembling actual contentment. That had been the more interesting of the two, bearing a potent draw that was unusual for a student of that age.

The newest one she had recorded to date had transpired moments after he left the bathroom preceding his scuffle with Cardin. It was much like occurrence two, it possessed a unique magnetism, but its potency was dramatically increased. She could not liken it in description, not accurately, such was its distinctiveness. For her, to describe it in anyway, it just felt like… the warm touch of the sun on a pleasant spring day.

She could not understand how someone could have so many different ways of smiling, why they would feel the subconscious need for so many precautions. Why would a boy need to lie about how he felt?

Blake also questioned the reason she was so interested in the male on her team. She didn't feel anything for him, at least not in the way Yang implied. Sure, he was pleasant to be around, and she was thankful that there was at least one other person on their team with a level head. But that didn't mean anything really. Perhaps curiosity was just in her blood? Given her heritage she would not be all that surprised.

And yet…

The girl frowned, her expression and her attention hidden behind her book as she studied the boy reclining back upon his newly embellished cot, the thick mattress having recently been _'pimped out'_ under Yang's insistence and Team RBYCN's mutual efforts. Now towering a full and impressive two feet off the floor by a mound of salvaged pillows from several clandestine raids deep into the heart of academy storage, and festooned with garish red and black sheets donated from Ruby, a worn mistralian teddy bear in fuzzy armor from Pyrrha, and yes… even a cat eared pillow given by herself, under The Blond Menace's persistence of course.

Blake was reluctant to admit that it, even in its horridly clashing state, did look and serve better than the little mat of stuffed fabric he had so contentedly endured for the past two weeks. Its reveal had also been the second time she noticed his third smile, and he had seemed marginally more talkative and kind in the hours before the team prepared to sleep.

She was… glad for that.

This communal effort of charity had arisen in the face of a startling realization they should have noticed far sooner.

Cassiel had come here with nothing. He had no luggage, no wardrobe, not even a lien to his name. Ruby, more so than anyone else of course, had been suitably appalled to learn that Cassiel had come to Beacon with naught but the clothes on his back. Her horror had only deepened when she learned that he had not even possessed a scroll until he came to Beacon, even if he had assured her that he had been just fine without one.

It was almost as if he one day he had just walked out of the woods and hitched a ride to Beacon.

The thought was of course ludicrous, and Blake did not entertain it as more than just a whimsical concept. However it did affirm her suspicion that there was more to him than his story implied. He should have at least had something to use, households often passed down weapons to their children, especially if they intended to become a huntsman. And she highly doubted that any good family would let their son walk off without even a few lien to use in case of emergency.

At that moment she felt as if she had unlocked a small piece of the puzzle, revealed a minuscule glimpse of the mystery of Cassiel Aurelian. Whatever issue he had, a part of it must have to do with his family.

Blake watched the boy lying on his bed, his silver eyes thoughtfully regarding the pages of an unusual book, that is to say it was unusual because she had never seen it before, and she considered herself to be quite well read. The novel itself was bound in pearlescent leather, its many pages bordered in a sheening silver that reflect beautifully in the pale moonlight trickling in from the open window.

She could effortlessly make out the title, etched as it was in bright gold on the novel's spine. _From the Light: a Personal Account._ The heading was not forthcoming and she looked instead for the author in hopes that she might at least recognize who they were, but did not see any distinguishing features beyond the caption.

What she _did_ see however, was the trace of a fond smile that slowly crawled onto Cassie's face as he delved deep into the unknown text. Whatever the book was, he appeared quite attached to it, and that was enough to incite her interest.

Hoping to perhaps learn of the book's origin and maybe even some answers, she reluctantly closed her own novel and slipped out of her bed. Blake shivered as her bare feet pressed against the cooled carpeting of their dorm, and she tucked her hands into the crook of her arms as she padded her way across the room towards him, wondering why it was she chose to wear such a short hemmed nightgown in the cold autumn air.

Deciding casually to test his awareness, she slowed her pacing slightly and stepped carefully, traversing the floor soundlessly, using the thick carpeting and several years of experience to mask her footstep.

She did not even come within fifteen feet of him before he turned his head, that selfsame smile still gracing his lips as he graciously acknowledged her presence. "Good evening, Miss Belladonna. Are you having problems finding the peace of sleep this night?" He asked, his voice tinged sever so slightly with concern.

Blake shook her head, brushing a lock of dark colored hair from her eyes. "No. I just saw the book you were reading and I was curious. I've never seen its like before." She admitted, eyeing the object in his hands with greater interest. This close, she could see the cover in clear detail, a strange spherical object inscribed into the center, the shadow of a city sheltered below it. The imagery was… beautiful, haunting in a way she could not accurately describe. It was more artistry than cover art, and she felt the overwhelming desire to hold the unusual text.

Cassiel's smile widened for but a moment before it was overcome by a strange melancholy, so strong she could imagine she felt it herself. "No you would not have." He agreed with a sad smile. "It is… unique… something quite personal to me. There is nothing else like it. There never will be."

The boy brushed a hand across the cover, tracing the outline of the sphere and the city below it with a reverential solemnity, almost as one would a religious tome or the diary of lost loved one.

"What is it?" She wondered aloud, her attentiveness inflamed by his solemn words.

"It is a… storybook." He explained after a moment's hesitation. "A collection of handwritten passages created to mimic a series of intimate accounts from the perspective of a guardian, a protector of a distant fantastical world."

"Where did it come from?"

"Well…" The boy glanced about the room, a brief struggle of indecision passing over him before he sighed and shook his head wearily. "I… I wrote it." He confessed, Cassiel visibly uncomfortable with that admission.

Blake felt her bow twitch, and her lips formed into a teasing smile. "You? You wrote a book?" She asked, her eyebrows arched askance. Of all the theories she might have speculated, that he had written the book was not one of them.

"Is that really so hard to believe?" Cassiel demanded, and Blake found his insulted look quite amusing. He cleared regretted even considering the idea of letting her in on this. She might have felt guilty if for not how interested she was in this development. They didn't really know each other all that well, they were perhaps the two furthest members of the team, and maybe, right now, she could try and fix that.

"I knew it. It's always the quiet ones." Blake rolled her eyes dramatically and set herself heavily on the foot of his bed, the mattress sagging slightly as the weight shifted and the lump of pillows underneath it somewhat displaced.

"So…" She aired expectantly, amber eyes flashing with feline-like interest.

"Wanna read it to me?"

She chuckled softly as his irritation transformed into transparent consternation, and the boy seemed to take a moment to recoup himself.

"Are you asking me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Sure," she shrugged innocuously. "I'm always up for a good story. And besides, I'm curious as to what kind of imagination you have churning around in that polite and well-mannered exterior.

"I… I do not know. I did not really write this with the intent to share. "

"Come on," she urged him with a reassuring nod. "I promise I won't make fun of it."

Blake sat in eager anticipation as he mused on her words, hoping that he would actually listen to her. The girl was not lying after all, she was genuinely fascinated to hear what he would consider worth writing down. Cassiel seemed like the kind of person that did little if anything by half measure, and with how articulate he was, she was at least confident she would be entertained by whatever it was he had written.

The boy titled his head to the side, the beginning of his dismissal of her idea, and yet even as her disappointment began to rise he stopped himself, a strange expression crossing his face for the briefest of moments, as if he had suddenly taken an unexpected call from his scroll.

Cassiel sighed, rubbing his brow with a callused hand. "Fine…" He relented, his tone resigned and his shoulders slumped in defeat even while Blake did her best to hide her triumphant smirk. "I'll read a few pages, but that's it. It's getting late anyways and we'll have to get up for class in a few hours."

She of course agreed to his stipulation, and made herself more comfortable on his bed, leaning her back against the nearby wall as she looked to him expectantly.

The boy, sighing once more as he opened his book, turned to the first page.

Blake listened, her pale red lips curled gently into a faraway smile at the melodic baritone of his voice as he began his tale.

* * *

 _AN: This is a perspective chapter of sorts, allowing other characters to progress the plot while hopefully fleshing out their personalities in the process. As always please feel free to correct any errors in personality from the RWBY characters. I do my best with what little info I have from the show. I've also been trying to get some experience with writing an unreliable narrator, that is for example one that lacks some kind of crucial information and is making assumptions based on what little fact they have. So I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter. I had an interesting time writing it at least._

 _Keep the faith!_


	8. Memories of Light

Chapter 8: Memories of Light

"Hey look… its kind… adorable."

"Why… you do it?"

"Fine… blame… goes wrong."

"Hey Blake wake… going to… late for class."

The words came to her in a mumbled and incoherent muddle at first as she drifted in and out of awareness. Feeling rather comfortable where she was, she ignored the intrusion, curling deeper into the warmth of her covers to escape the loud and unwanted voice that pestered her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." The voice spoke again, this time in crystal clarity as Blake felt her center of gravity shift sharply. Her entire world spinning wildly, the girl issued a rather catlike yowl as she was flung from her bed in a tousled nest of ruffled sheets, her huntress training failing her as she collided roughly with the ground.

"Ruby…" She hissed dangerously as she slowly extracted herself from the ebbing heat of her blankets now sprawled across the frigid dormitory floor. "Whatever last words you want to say to your sister, say them now."

"It was my idea!"

"Poor choice of words." She admonished, her fists curling as she crouched low and made ready to spring forward, blanket wrapped in her hands like a makeshift garrote.

"Cassiel's bed!" The girl screamed again, incoherently.

These proved to be better words to confuse Blake, who had been moments away from becoming the key suspect in a school homicide.

Not that the VPD could ever catch her.

"What?"

"You fell asleep in Cassiel's bed." Pyrrha explained helpfully, the girl already dressed for class as she pointed towards the uplifted cot behind Blake.

She looked back, to the recently disturbed blankets and the trail of discarded bed things that led right to her, thoughts on retaliation slowly fading.

"Is there something I shou-" Yang shrieked as a pillow slammed into her face with near terminal velocity, the aura strengthened throw sending the blond girl flying back with a muffled yelp of surprise.

"We were just talking the night before and I must have fallen asleep. Where is he now?" She asked, turning to Pyrrha, the next most reliable member of the team excluding the one in absentia.

"He left a note." She explained cooperatively, gesturing to a paper on the dorm table filled in a neat scrawl. "Mentioned something about speaking to the headmaster, said he didn't know when he would be back."

Curious, Blake walked over Yang's prostrated form, looking to the note as the blond girl was pulled to the side and out of the line of fire by her faithful younger sister.

 _Team RBYCN,_

 _I've been summoned to the headmaster's office. It has not been disclosed to me as to when I shall be dismissed. Please do not wait for me. I should be around shortly. (Ruby & Yang, your reports on Grimm biology for Professor Port's class are on my shelf, proof read and ready to turn in.)_

 _Cassiel Aurelian_

"Yep, even on paper he sounds like a boring 18th century dandy _._ " Yang drawled lazily from over her shoulder. "Thankfully his dashing good looks make up for that. Otherwise I might have been a little put off."

Blake sighed.

"Yang."

"Yeah Blakey?"

"You should run now."

The blonde sighed resignedly.

"Right…"

* * *

This was the first time he'd had the opportunity to see the inside of Ozpin's office, sequestered as it was at the top of the massive CCT tower at the heart of Beacon. He knew the man was somewhat of an eccentric, but he had not known how deep the vein lay until he arrived at the _gates_ to his workplace. What else could he call the towering edifice before him?

Two massive intricately carved doors of sterling steel barred his way inside, the iconography adorning their surface an intertwining metal tapestry of clockwork and mythological imagery. Even for a man like Ozpin this seemed somewhat excessive.

Sparing himself the sigh he felt coming, Cassiel instead stepped forwards and pushed the doors open, the action revealing an equally ostentatious vestibule within. Above him giant gears rumbled and spun about on their pivots and axels, filling the air with the unique sound of a ticking clock that came from all directions. The floor itself was polished stone inlaid with artful designs and other nonsensical things that he did not care for.

Cassiel supposed he should probably reserve judgment, that his opinion was categorically a biased one and a man of Ozpin's position was expected to show such extravagance. He was a guardian, a light augmented warrior from another world. It should be no surprise that he found some things repellent. And yet even despite knowing this it still got to him in a way he could hardly stand. It was the excess that hit him hardest, that was the most difficult to stomach. Humanity was on the brink of extinction on Remnant, they had four kingdoms, four places they could scarcely call their own on a world several times larger than Earth. They were but a few hundred million, outnumbered near ten to one by their limitless foe.

And here they were, huddled in their shanties and hoarding their vain wealth as if that would matter in the end. The Grimm could not be warded off with the trappings of avarice.

Greed had always been one of the ugliest sins of man. He knew this more than most. After all he had fought for greed and imperial affluence in his days as a legionary. He was no better than they. He had killed for gold and coin. It was just sad to see that it carried across worlds as much as time. There truly was no escape from mankind's depravities.

"Mister Aurelian, you are aware that you can approach me? One might even call it expected when one walks into someone else's residence."

His dark reverie shaken by the politely humorous words of the headmaster sitting patiently behind his desk, Cassiel nodded his apologies and crossed the remaining distance to until he stood just in front of the man.

"Headmaster." The guardian inclined his head respectfully.

"Please," he waived his hand lightly in return, a lazy laugh easing from his chest. "Just call me Ozpin. It sounds weird to have someone so old speak to me like that."

"Is that wise?" Cassiel wondered, eyeing the empty room.

"I assure you, Mister Aurelian, I am the only one who can bug this office. I'd hardly be a fit for this position if I could not handle such pedantic espionage. Please, take a seat, relax. I do dislike formalities."

The man gestured to the seat behind him and after a moment of consideration, Cassiel acquiesced.

"You are more unusual than I had first thought, Ozpin." He admitted after a moment of silence, musing on the character of the man who knew so much about him, yet he himself knew little in return. "A position like yours is built upon formality."

"And that is exactly why I despise it." The headmaster replied with a smile as he leaned back into his seat and sipped from his mug, for all appearance acting as one would around a fellow colleague. "Too much evil has been done under the guidance of orthodoxy and decorum. Bureaucracy has been the death of far too many innocent people on this world of ours. The councils ply on with their inane concerns and voracious self-indulgence; meanwhile time trickles on and we as a species die ever so slightly."

Cassiel shook his head, though he could not banish the amused smirk he carried. "You are also more forthcoming then I thought you might be. What you say is dangerous Ozpin. The words you speak could be considered treasonous."

At that the man laughed, this time louder and more aware. "Perhaps, but forgive my presumptuousness for assuming you would not be the one to drag me up the steps of the council building in chains."

The guardian remained silent, willing to concede the point.

"After all I am confident that you are a man of similar mind. I would not have invited you here otherwise, regardless of your power. This school is just a half measure, a means of keeping you close while allowing you the necessary freedom to act unimpeded. And perhaps there is the chance you just might find something you've lost here. But I digress. You desire change. I do as well. But change comes with a price I believe we are both acquainted with."

Cassiel sighed heavily, a frown twisting his face. There was a look in Ozpin's eyes, a sharpness and weight that looked so very familiar. "You speak words of truth, uncommon for this day and age."

The headmaster shared his sentiment, a likeminded frustration lingering in his voice. "What a sad day it is when honesty becomes a commodity. That's why I decided to become a headmaster. The younger generations can often see with a clarity of thought most adults are blind to. Like I said before, one cannot change the past, but one can secure the future."

"Is that the reason you have contacted me?" He could only wonder. For the past several weeks he had not heard word from the schoolmaster, no further explanation as to why he had placed him inside Beacon of all places. Cassiel had just started to wonder why it was he was here when Ozpin finally reached out to him.

"Yes and no." The man admitted, his mug placed upon his desk as he laced his fingers together and leaned deeply into his chair. "Originally I had intended to pass at least this first year without anything too presumptuous, allow you time to acclimate to your team and what I can no doubt assume is an unsolicited adaptation of the youthful rigors of school life. But fate, as it tends to, has conspired against us."

Ozpin gestured to his desk and the assortment of papers lain out before the both of them, a brief glance informing Cassiel that they were varied reports and news articles. "I will not insult your intelligence and ask if you are aware of the White Fang movement. Instead I pose this." He leaned forwards, hazel eyes flashing dangerously. "Are you willing to do anything about it?"

"I will do anything that aids humanity." He answered after a moment of careful deliberation. That was no lie. He would give anything and everything to protect the human race, faunus or otherwise. It was the very reason he had been restored to life, what The Traveler and the Vanguard would have wanted. And it was what he wanted for himself.

But words were easy.

"However the position you have given me, while a suitable cover, does not allow me much freedom of movement outside this institution."

The headmaster grinned smugly, a look that reminded Cassiel of initiation with no small measure of irritation. "That is true for a normal student. But last I was aware; you are not quite like your peers. I am confident certain… rubrics can be overlooked for one of your unique disposition. With my contacts spread thin I find myself in desperate need for a reliable and trained operative out on the streets of Vale. With your considerable experience and knowledge I think you are the perfect candidate."

Cassiel mulled over the offer.

The idea was undeniably interesting, and he had been starting to feel somewhat agitated as of late. He did enjoy his time at Beacon to some extent. It was an altogether novel experience. But he had not become a guardian to lounge about all day and listen to tedious rhetoric. He was a titan. He lived to fight against impossible odds, to bring light to shadow. He was, at the end of the day, a warrior first, and a man second.

He supposed then that the answer was all but apparent.

"What would I have to do?"

* * *

 _I… I do not know what to think anymore. My thoughts… my beliefs… they have been torn apart and scattered before my eyes. Everything I have ever known has been upturned, flipped on an axel that spins so fast I can't seem to grab a hold of it no matter how hard I try. Even now I fight to put my thoughts upon paper. And it is to my everlasting shame that my fingers tremble as I try to inscribe these words into a scrap of parchment I recovered from an empty building._

 _But I will try my best._

 _Ghost, my... guide, has suggested that I write my thoughts down, explaining that it would help acclimatize to… to whatever is that's happened to me. It is only now after many days that I finally relent. Back... home, with the legion... I had never concerned myself with making an account for myself. I am… or rather was just a soldier, a pawn used in a game beyond my comprehension. My thoughts did not matter, all that was important was that I was loyal and carried out my duties effectively._

 _Now I… I do not know._

 _Ghost is an… unusual creature. He insists that I have been brought back to serve humanity, not a king, or a god, or even an empire, but everyone, all of us. The idea is novel, but hard to believe. Or at it least it might have been if not for the relentless barrage of truths that have assaulted me since I awoke in that field._

 _The world is not as I remembered it. Humanity's days as a dominant species are waning. I have been traveling for days with nothing but Ghost to keep me company. I see… things… things that I have never seen before, great metal beasts, roads of black tar, and towers of molded iron. At first I was in awe of these wonders, and now they make me feel a strange melancholy._

 _I have missed it, the height of out species. Their days of glory are long past, nothing but rusted steel and corroded rock remains of these monumental constructions of man. Whatever pinnacle of advancement we have attained has been destroyed, brushed aside by some calamity that I can hardly fathom._

 _Ghost tries to explain it to me when the silence drags on for too long, but I cannot grasp his words, as if uttered in a foreign tongue. He speaks of technology beyond comprehension, of worlds beyond this one, and an incompressible history that has left me behind._

 _It is too much._

 _I cannot understand it._

 _I do not want this world he has brought me into._

 _My guide says my fears will pass, that it is something experienced by all of those brought back to serve some entity he calls The Traveler. The reverence he holds when he speaks of it conjures forth images of godhood, and it is ironic that I at least can understand that above anything else he has told me. I have prayed to gods before, though they do not seem to hear my prayers in this hellish and dark world._

 _As I write these words I find myself traveling down a strange road littered with broken machines and cracked pavement. Ghost has told me as of this morning that we are only a few weeks away from The Last City, and I can only hope that its name is a lie, though my heart knows otherwise._

 _Is that really all that is left of us? Of everything we have ever done as a species? Do we really stand so precariously upon the edge of annihilation? This world of mine I have awoken into, it is strange and alien._

 _I… I am afraid._

 _Ghost says we are being followed, but he will not tell me what it is that pursues us._

 _Perhaps I shall pray to this Traveler next time I make camp._

 _I know not what else to do._

The pages of the unusual volume closed softly, its pearlescent cover scrutinized by dark amber eyes. Blake hummed quietly to herself as she took in the outwards appearance of Cassiel's storybook, pale fingers brushing against the smooth leather binding its pages together. She had not known what to anticipate when she learned that he dabbled in writing.

Certainly not something so… raw.

She must have been tired from the night before, since she did not remember Cassiel reading from his book. But now afforded the opportunity after classes had ended, she had struggled to put it down. Blake had a fascination for what her teammate had written, a desire to read and learn more about what happened to this man in the pages, of the world unlike the one he remembered. For the first time since she was a child, Blake was excited at the prospect of reading more. It was different from the usual enthusiasm reserved for her other… reading material.

As brief as her reading had been she felt attached to the character Cassiel had created.

Despite all of this, and against her desires to delve deeper, she returned the storybook to its place on Cassiel's shelf. She has asked him to read a few passages for her, and that was as far as she was willing to without his express permission. Unlike her usual material, she knew the creator, and respected him enough to not delve into his privacy beyond the extent she had been offered. It was a sentiment she knew he would share.

Blake, her mission complete, turned away from Cassiel's space and returned to her bed, climbing up into it as it dangled precariously from the ground. Reaching underneath her pillow, she extracted her most recent acquisition from the bookstore and busied herself with the distraction; meanwhile her teammates continued their battle for the shower.

At first it had been amusing, but that was before Blake realized their war for rights to hot water would become a nightly ritual, now she despaired the moment the sun began to set. But she left them to their own devices, last time, when she had mentioned that they could just take showers at different intervals; the crazy girls had nearly thrown her out the window.

Blake had since then decided it was much safer to observe, and content herself with cold amenities for the foreseeable future.

"Yang! Don't pull on my hair! That's cheating!" Ruby wailed, her elder sister's hand twined into the younger's black locks, a look of rueful apology on her face as she stopped Ruby from diving inside the bathroom at the last second.

"Sorry Rubes. But Mama Yang needs her hot bath and scented candles."

"SIGNATURE HAMMER KICK!" Pyrrha roared as she jumped from her second story bed and slammed her foot into the back of Yang's skull.

Yang, to her credit, did not scream, and instead released a far more dignified ~ _uwah~_ of surprise as she suddenly found herself violently kissing the ground.

Ruby, sensing an opportunity when her sister's grip weakened, tore forwards and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob.

Victory was so close she could almost taste it

"KILLER MOVE: SERIOUS SERIES… SERIOUS PUNCH!"

In the end all she tasted was carpet as Pyrrha's fist landed flatly against the small of her back, sending her flying for a full three seconds before she crashed into the floor, where she would awaken minutes later with serious rug burn.

The mistralian champion loomed victoriously over her defeated foes, clenched fist smoking with untapped power, before she turned on her heels and walked into the bathroom, whistling a cheerful tune as the door closed behind her.

"No... fair." Yang groaned from her awkward prostration upon the ground. "Stupid Invincible Girl and her stupid skill."

Witnessing her tormentor brought low in a rare moment of weakness, teased a smile from Blake's lips, and she hurriedly snapped a picture of the blond brawler's current indignity with her scroll to use as blackmail or bargaining chip in the future.

"Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long, are you alright? What has happened?"

Blake looked to the door where Cassiel had only just entered moments after the carnage, a look of abject shock and mannerly concern crossing his recurrently composed expression as he dropped the bags he had been carrying and rushed to the two girls who had been so utterly defeated.

"Are you injured? How many fingers am I holding up?" Cassiel kneeled beside Ruby, a duo of his digits raised before her silver eyes.

"Cookies…" The girl mumbled incoherently in response, her eyes gazing past Cassiel's hand and off it into the distance. "Pyrrha stole my cookies."

After a moment of analysis, and upon seeing that other than her delirium, that she was mostly unharmed, the boy from Mistral crossed over to Yang, who arguably appeared the worst of the pair. "Miss Xiao Long are you unharmed?" He inquired, lifting the insensate girl into his lap and brushing a hand across her head, over a small bump rising from her temple.

The blond giggled, looking far too comfortable with her current positon as he fussed diligently over her more noticeable injury.

"Heh… totally… worth it." She mumbled dazedly before her eyes closed and she drifted into slumber right in his arms.

Confusion clearly defined in his bewildered expression and puzzled eyes, the boy looked to the only member of his team not currently concussed, Ruby sprawled a meter away, muttering about the angry color red trying to steal her cookies, and Yang's unconscious body draped across his legs. "Miss Belladonna what has happened here. Were they attacked? Where's Miss Nikos?"

"Miss Belladonna?" He asked uncertainly once the girl erupted into an amused chuckle that sounded unsettlingly like an evil cackle.

In in the end it was a full twenty minutes after his initial inquiry that he finally garnered the answer to this puzzling situation he had walked into.

* * *

"So this all started over… bathing rights?" Cassiel spoke slowly, assuming a guise of deep consternation as he tucked Yang into her bed. It had taken several minutes for him to retrieve the comatose sisters and place them in their beds to recover. The task might have been easier, had Blake offered her assistance, but the girl seemed to content enough instead to watch and remark amusedly from her lofty perch.

"That's about the size of it." Blake agreed from her roost, eyeing a nervous and embarrassed Pyrrha with a smirk.

"And you, Miss Nikos?" He asked, turning to face the girl that was now visibly red in the face and gestured to dorm room that appeared for all intents and purposed like an active warzone, pillows strewn like spent shell casings and blankets amassed and fortified in the way of makeshift sandbags.

"You contributed to this… this madness?"

Pyrrha wilted at his tone of disbelief, and just the softest hint of disappointment. As a studious and respectful student, and someone that did not care about her fame, she valued his opinion more than anyone else at the school. And to hear him sound so displeased, made her feel absolutely terrible.

"I _need_ my hot water, Cas." Was her only attempt at justifying the insanity that the boy tried to comprehend.

A strange expression pulled across his face, and he moved his gaze to the two girls bludgeoned into an early repose. And for a moment his eyes almost seemed to match the age of their owner, the young man revealing an usual boyishness that was unfamiliar considering his usually well-mannered and mature disposition.

"I… suppose that it is fortunate I was not present to witness this irrationality, else I fear what may have befallen me." As he turned back, Pyrrha noticed the tiniest curl of amusement on his otherwise stern lips, and she knew in that moment that he did not hold anything over her.

"Don't worry Cas. I could never hurt you." The red headed girl assured him with a pleasant smile. Cassiel was a polite guy and easy to get along with. So she liked him a little too much to send a crushing axe kick to the back of his head. At least not unless she knew he wouldn't remember who delivered it.

After all she needed her hot water.

Hopefully he would never get in the way.

Cassiel shook his head, a low, harmonious chuckle emerging from the boy as he patted her on the shoulder and left for his corner, muttering a departing _"Light give me strength."_

Pyrrha watched as he set down on his cot, picked up a book from his shelf, and naturally absorbed himself into the world inside its pages, appearing in that moment as if he had enough of the outside world for the day, a trait he and Blake seemed to share.

"And you wonder why I like to read?" The Champion of Mistral, looked up to see mischievous amber eyes peering from the edge of the top bunk above her own. "There is only chaos when the Red Rose and Golden Dragon clash."

Pyrrha giggled and looked to the two sisters as they slept, two of the few people she genuinely called friends. "It's a good chaos though, right?"

The quietest of Team RBYCN did not respond, the tawny glow of her eyes disappearing back into the darkness of the enclosure that kept her protected from the anarchy of the world she lived in.

* * *

Cassiel frowned at the boy across the breakfast table, the silvered steel of his irises regarding the other man with an upraised brow. "You want me to do what?"

"I am hoping you would be able to help Jaune with his training." Ren replied serenely, sipping from his tea as he returned the gaze levered upon him. "As no doubt the entirety of the student body and probably a few citizens in Vale are aware, Jaune Arc is a terrible warrior."

"And you expected me to change that?" Cassiel asked, genuinely confused. He had given no inclination to anyone that he was in any way competent with a sword, Jaune's primary and as far as he knew, only weapon of choice. Certainly, the titan was probably the greatest swordsman on Remnant; he had hundreds of years of experience and had used blades to kill a significant number of his foes, from hive thralls to fallen kells. But they would not know this. Ren must truly be desperate.

Meanwhile, Cassiel was somewhat disappointed.

With the rest of Team RBYCN taking longer than usual to get ready for the day, an issue that's origin lay within the events of the night prior, when Ren had approached his table he had thought the other boy would take it as an opportunity to chat in peace without interference from the usual crowd of misfits.

However it seemed Ren had another motivation in mind and instead brought another set of issues with him, an unfortunate turn of events Cassiel should really start expecting at this point.

"I believe you are the only one that can." The composed boy answered with a weighty sigh. "I would not ask this of you if there were no other option. As you are aware the majority of my team is… not exactly suitable for such a task. And there is no one else we would trust more."

Cassiel supposed he could see the logic in Ren's argument. Ren himself was not versed in that manner of fighting, nor did he seem to possess the intent required, and while Weiss Schnee and Nora Valkyrie were good people imaging them in a teaching role… well that did not exactly inspire confidence.

 _Come on Guardian, I think it's a novel idea. It'll be just like the old days when Zavala had us following around all those newbies. Those were fun, right?_

He was disinclined to agree. Ghost's memory must have been malfunctioning, because he did not remembering it being as fun as the machine made it out to be. It in fact had been quite irritating. The only thing worse than a new recruit, was a new recruit that did not stay dead. He had never seen one person die so many times to the same trap.

He had not been that terrible… had he?

 _Nah you were different. But then… you've always been a little different from the others. Either way I think we should help him. I like Jaune. He's kinda like… you know._

Cassiel sighed.

He did in fact _know_.

"I make no promises, Ren." He forewarned as the other boy smiled gratefully at the inherent understating that his request had been accepted, however glumly. "Have him meet me in the training hall at the end of the day. I will give him one hour to prove himself. If I deem him worthy, I will allow this to continue."

"Excellent." Ren inclined his head appreciatively and stood from the table. "I'll let him know at once."

Cassiel watched the boy leave, his thoughts plagued by conflicting emotions. While this gave him a unique opportunity to have an excuse to be absent from the team dorm tonight, he was still troubled by how much these teenagers seemed to have included him into their lives. He was not here for this. He had not come to Beacon to make friends, to help other students with their troubles. Or at least… this was not how he saw things panning out.

He had not thought he would become so… invested in all of this.

He liked his team and Ren's. They reminded him of what it really felt like to laugh, and to smile… what it was like to have friends again, to be a part of a fireteam. He wanted to hate this, hate the way they made him feel emotions he had given up on. But he could not find it within himself to be so ungrateful for this opportunity. It was not wise to spite good fortune in the eye.

 _Guardian… this is not something to hate. One time, so very long ago, you would have known that._

"Ever the voice of reason… even when it is unwanted." Cassiel chuckled, the sound cool and emotionless, but possessing none of the sharp bite that might have been expected when Ghost usually overstepped its bounds.

 _Someone in this relationship has to be._ The machine scolded its guardian playfully.

"I worry where I might be now if you were not." The man admitted openly as he disposed of his meal tray and readied to depart the cafeteria.

 _Dead, you'd probably be dead._

"Probably so…" He laughed again, this time warm and amused. He retrieved his scroll from the pocket of his uniform and glanced at the clock in the upper right hand corner of the communication device.

 _It's 8:40. I could have told you that._ Ghost muttered irritably. His petulance rising as the guardian laughed harder.

"I thought you were _a highly advanced machine_ and that such mundane things were _beneath a creation of such caliber._ " When Ghost did not reply, and he felt its attention pointedly fade onto other things, Cassiel's grin remained, but lessened as he went on his way.

Professor Oobleck's lecture started at nine, and he did not think it wise to be late to the man's class. A detention from Port he could tolerate. He did not mind the stories overmuch. But Cassiel did not think he could endure an afterhours discussion on history with a man that could talk faster than light traveled.

"Hey Aurelian!"

Pausing outside the lecture hall, Cassiel turned to watch as a determined Cardin marched towards him. The guardian looked to the door, and then took a step away, waiting until the boy thundered to a stop right in front of him, wearing an ugly grimace that was quite familiar. His team lingered in the back and did not appear ready to attack, giving Cassiel the impression that this was not going to devolve into a violent confrontation.

The guardian inclined his head politely, the very image of neutrality. "Mr. Winchester, what can I do for you?"

Cardin's scowl, while as heated and arrogant as ever, was perhaps the only portion of his visage that bore ill-intent. The boy's eyes, were in this instant slightly softer, and somewhat… apologetic?

Cassiel watched curiously as Cardin took a moment to compose himself, clearly uncomfortable but forcing himself to press onwards with that stubborn pride and relentless willpower that had secured him so many victories in Miss Goodwitch's class.

"Look…" He muttered reluctantly, a sigh escaping powerfully from his lungs. It was clear to everyone present that he didn't want to be there right now. Regardless, the boy continued. "I don't like you, Aurelian. Right now I think you're a snobbish asshole who talks about things he doesn't understand. But that's not the point and not why I stopped you. I lost my cool yesterday, more than I should have. And it ain't right what I did. And while I think you should've manned up and not get tossed around like a chump, that's none of my damn business."

"So… sorry… I guess." He growled in conclusion. Once finished with saying what must have taken a lot of resolution to order his mouth to utter, Cardin looked to Cassiel expectantly for a reply.

Cassiel studied the brutish teen standing before him, a contemplative expression crossing his features.

He nodded, hand extended outwards. "Accepted, Mr. Winchester. It shall be, as they say, water under the bridge."

Cardin huffed, but seemed somewhat relieved as he accepted Cassiel's outstretched hand.

"If I may ask a small favor?" Cassiel wondered.

Cardin, relief shifting into suspicion, nodded hesitantly.

"Well it is more request then favor. But would you care to meet me in the training hall later this evening? I find that a good fight is the best way to settle any malign sentiments."

Cardin grinned toothily. "Sure… I can get behind that."

"Most excellent." Cassiel shared in the aggressive man's smirk, though his was undoubtedly not as spiteful. "If that is everything?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Cardin waived off casually. "I think we're sorted."

Conversation concluded, the guardian stepped back, allowing Cardin and his team to enter the classroom first.

Cassiel looked to the door, allowing himself the smallest of smiles. "As ever, it is the carrot that trumps the stick."

 _Waxing poetic are you?_ Ghost interjected upon the guardian's musing with an irritating smugness, tainting the otherwise pleasant atmosphere. _I stand in awe of your effervescent prose and lyrical grace. It is truly an art beyond describable form. Sometimes I wonder why the Traveler brought you back as a warrior when he should have resuscitated you as a poet._

Cassiel's chronic sigh returned with a ferocious vengeance.

"Ghost… shut up."

* * *

 _AN: Salutations friends! Thought I'd give a quick little update on current efforts for my works. I've been pretty busy with rl stuff for the past couple weeks so I haven't had much time to really get writing. Even with that in mind I've made quite a bit of progress for a few of my stories. With Legacy at 5K words, At Duty's End at just a little over 3K and Stranded Beyond Hope at around a solid 2K. I have been writing, but my attention has been spaced around half a dozen or so projects. Until it is Done is still stuck somewhere in limbo since I am having difficulty finding out where to stop the chapter._

 _On a different subject I was wondering if there was any interest in the idea of myself posting a work on the site that housed the various concepts I have accrued over the years, stories that never quite made it to the table and ideas that I had created but never worked on past initial development. Also I was wondering if anyone would be interested in myself creating a general Forum here on the site that pertains to my stories and related subjects. I think it would be a great idea for me to keep connected with my readers as well as maybe receive input on my works and even a little advice to maybe get some of my older sorties from the evil clutches of development hell. It'd be kind of fun to interact with all of you on a more personal level that was not as meticulous as Personal Messaging, since I definitely have a terrible track record of replying to PMs. I just think it would be a good idea to have more solid communication and maybe a place to just shoot the shit about various games and topics of shared interest._

 _Anyways let me know what you all think about that and as always I hope you were suitably entertained by this latest chapter._

 _Keep the faith_

 _Drake_


	9. Oh The Places You'll Go

Oh the Places You'll Go

"Is that really a good idea?" Yang questioned as she walked alongside Cassiel, eyeing the guardian skeptically. For whatever reason, probably a desire for entertainment at the expense of her classmates, the buxom blonde had decided to accompany him down to the peer training rooms after classes had ended for the day. With the conclusion of the lecture week, the rest of RBYCN was off somewhere cavorting about downtown Vale, something he knew the girl accompanying him avidly avoided missing, if only so that Blake would not escape the overbearing weight of her tending. This led the guardian to wonder if she was simply trying to keep him company, or was more so anticipating the inevitable theatrics of Cardin and Jaune's interactions.

Regardless of her motives, she was not wrong to hold onto her disbelief.

No doubt in that moment she was dubious as to the level of his intelligence, and to be fair she had plenty of data to support the basis of her suspicion. Even someone of the lowest intellect could deduce that Cardin Winchester and Jaune Arc should probably never be placed in the same room when weapons were involved. Indeed, even when there were no weapons it was perhaps a rather poor plan.

"A good idea?" He mused in pleasant humor. He hadn't had a good idea for the last eighty years, recent choices included. Immortality did not necessarily infer perfection. All he need do was reevaluate his past decisions to disabuse that notion. At this point was not quite sure what fit that description. "Perhaps not, but I think it an excellent opportunity to curb their venomous relations before it deteriorates even further beyond salvation."

"Why are you doing this anyway? If I remember correctly, Cardin punched your face in not too long ago." The smallest of smirks flashed across her face, and her amethyst irises glimmered with subdued mirth as she wondered at his curious magnanimity.

Cassiel shrugged. "Inconsequential. Confrontation would have served no purpose and I'd rather not risk conflict with the faculty. I thought it best considering the situation."

Clearly she was not amused by his reply, as Yang developed a rather dark frown on her lips that replaced the once smug grin. "That wasn't just a schoolyard fight, Cassiel. He _attacked_ you. I mean the guy broke your fricken nose! You were bleeding so badly it ruined your uniform."

"It was nothing that would not heal quickly and a small price to pay to keep the peace."

"Ignoring an asshole like him isn't keeping the peace. That's just letting the shithead get away with it. Are you some kind of pacifist?" She wondered after a moment of careful pause. "Is this some kind of sacred vow not to hurt your fellow man or something? Is that why Miss Goodwitch hasn't called you up to fight?"

Her eyes lit up with apparent revelation, as she thought she had just unveiled a piece of the complicated puzzle his team insisted upon its existence and spent an inordinate amount of time attempting to solve, however he was quick to dissuade her theory with a rueful chuckle.

"No, nothing of the sort. I have…" The guardian's train of thought derailed briefly, a memory of his first life returning unbidden, the ringing clash of steel and screams, the crimson spray of blood and the nauseating aroma of spilled offal as nations contravened over meaningless ideologies, spouting inane oaths to gods and emperors.

"I am… not unused to the field of battle."

Yang laughed teasingly, and though it sounded cruel, he realized that she could hardly be expected to believe that. After all he looked like a boy no older than his early twenties. Despite the desperate state of this world, young adults were not expected to be combatants. Even for huntsman by the time their schooling was concluded they would be fairly along in maturity. They might have only just been reaching the current approximation of his physical appearance by the time they would encounter the harsh realities of their occupation.

"What…" She eyed him humorously. "Were you a soldier or something?"

In spite of knowing that by the very nature of her kindhearted character, Yang was incapable of genuine cruelty, her laughter still cut sharper and deeper than he expected it would. He had thought his considerable age, centuries spent fighting through the hellish quagmire of endless war, might have imbued him with a more hardened disposition.

He was wrong.

Cassiel winced at the sardonic tone in her voice, at the blatant, if unknowing disregard for everything he had endured since he had first awoken to a world that had passed him by, and had continued to experience since his arrival upon Remnant, the betrayals, the deceit, the loss of friends and a thankless service to a humanity that seemed hell-bent on self-destruction no matter his efforts, no matter how he suffered tirelessly on their behalf, forgotten and unacknowledged.

"Or something" He whispered softly, brushing a hand across his side, at the faded scar between his upper ribs, a constant reminder of the day he very nearly died for the last time, the day he realized just how utterly he had failed as a guardian. It was an… unpleasant memory to put it lightly, and one that tormented him with its unanswered questions.

Why had she changed?

And how could he have not seen it?

Where had he gone wrong?

"Cassiel?"

 _You know… it was not your fault, Guardian._

His fists clenched.

"You alright?"

 _Some people change, there was no way you could have known she –_

"Enough!"The sunbreaker snarled viciously, straining to maintain his composure as his inner companion spoke above its station, and there was a brief frame of time, a single moment where he fought to douse the growing embers of his anger. Such was an acquainted struggle for the guardian, the flickering heat of internal conflict an unusual emotion inside him, if not entirely familiar.

For a titan of his class, one that courted so closely with the fickle and volatile nature of fire, he was a fair degree more moderate than his other impulsive colleagues. But that was, at times, a thin veneer, a methodical charade to conceal the buried depth of his passions. Guardians, if they lived long enough to reach the vast extent of his age, learned how best to endure the capacious immensity of their service. Some sought more material comforts, alcoholism and appetites of the flesh to name the more prominent escapes that helped numb the endless magnitude of their lives. He was of the smaller sect of warriors that found their solace in temperance and a simple, although pleasant, asceticism and solemn adherence to their duties. Such a choice made him somewhat of a pariah amongst his fellow sunbreakers, a faction of titans that was well known for their passions and strange quirks. This he hadn't minded in truth. The opinions of others were, and in all likelihood, would continue to be inconsequential. He had long foregone any concern about other peoples' beliefs.

His ghost however, was the only one left that could strike him where it hurt the most.

The aforementioned machine's presence faded from his senses, realizing that it had crossed a line and stepped on an old wound that had not yet, and would probably never heal. Some things, no matter how close their bond, were deeply personal, a topic that was private even for someone who shared his soul with another.

This was one such thing.

He remembered then, much to his dismay, that he was not alone with Ghost, and that he had a traveling companion who must have mistaken his outburst as directed at her, a grievous error on his part that he wanted to correct quickly, lest he incur any long term damage of their association. Cassiel looked to Yang and blenched in remorse at her appearance of wounded uncertainty. She did not appear angry at his remark, but instead worried at his hostility, as if he might default on their friendship as a result of one outburst.

After all that was what they were, he supposed. As unusual as he considered all of this, and as much as he disliked the lies he told to maintain his position, they were, at the end of the day, friends of an odd sort. The students he frequently interacted with were of amiable disposition, almost familiar to him in a way reminiscent of his companions from so many long years ago, back before he had decided to serve the Traveler's interests on his own. He enjoyed their company, was warmed by their youthful personalities and endless positivity.

He had nearly forgotten what it was like to be young like them, to embrace the fullness of life, and he found their companionship to the brightest blessing bestowed upon him since he took up Ozpin's request. Yet the reminder was sentimental in a way, like visiting the resting place of an old friend.

Such thoughts, however, were better served for a more private setting, where he could reminisce upon the past in quiet serenity. Now was the time to tamp out the fires, as the old legionary saying went.

A moment was taken wherein he meticulously collected and readjusted the scattered shards of his composure, rearranging the discarded pieces into a fragile facsimile of cordiality. "My apologies, Yang." He offered his regret with a contrite incline of his head and a sincere tone of penitence, using her first name in what he hoped was an effort that would seem more personal, a slight concession on his part to apologize for his abrupt and antagonistic behavior.

"My discontent… it was not aimed towards you." He sighed heavily, and for a brief instant the true extent of his exhaustion slipped past his front of stalwart composure. This was just one of many increasingly frequent incidents where he temporarily lost his self-control. It was honestly embarrassing, and the guilt he felt was entirely genuine. It'd been a long time since he had such difficulty with his restraint. "My memories, they are… rather unpleasant." His admittance was a partial truth, an explanation that while insufficient in description, would hopefully suffice in placating his companion.

An expression formed on the girl's face, one that despite his best efforts, he could not accurately construe regardless of his comprehensive versing in interpreting such things. Her features, as pale and attractive as lavish porcelain, shifted into the familiar in moments, and she smiled softly, the lilac hue of her eyes taking on an incandescent shade that was quite striking.

"Tell you what." Yang's smirk returned with an unexpected vengeance, and there was something unusual in her look as she matched his gaze with confidence incongruous to a girl of her age.

It reminded him of someone he knew long ago.

"Promise to take me out for a night on the town this weekend and we'll be as square as squares can be."

Unlike the way he usually conducted his actions, Cassiel felt an eyebrow raise precariously, a joking suspicion noticeable in his reply. "Is this an attempt at seduction, Miss Xiao Long?"

"If that means I get a free meal and a few bubbly drinks? Sure." She shrugged casually.

"Whatever floats your boat, dude."

He contemplated her request, and found himself smiling despite himself. "Very well then, Miss Xiao Long. If you pick the venue and arrange the time, I shall attend what will no doubt be a fascinating experiment in tempting causality." Considering his current relation with fate, he doubted he would ever again have a day of pleasant relaxation. The very idea was laughable considering the lengthy history of his current track record.

"What?" Yang asked with utter bewilderment.

Cassiel sighed. "I have not been in Vale for a long time, so I think you should decide where we go. I trust that you would know what would be best. After all, with you in charge, what could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

"What are you doing here, Arc?"

"C-Cardin?" Jaune, looking up from his sword with a start, stuttered in surprise as the intimidating bulk of the boy who caused him no end of grief, entered the training room. In his astonishment his response only echoed what had been directed at him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I asked you first!" Winchester growled as he advanced further into the room, head cocked high and his shoulders squared by that immutable arrogance so familiar with his bearing.

For someone that cut an imposing figure in the pedestrian trappings of his school uniform, seeing Cardin ornamented in his armor and wielding the massive encumbrance of his mace, was enough to be a point of considerable concern for Jaune. "I… I'm waiting for someone." He answered eventually, his hand subconsciously tightening about the hilt of his sword. If Cardin noticed that, or the way the blonde teen reached for his shield beside him, he did not react as he scoffed uneasily.

"Yeah… so am I." The larger youth muttered as he looked about the room. And in a moment his eyes flashed, a knowing grin splitting across his harsh expression. "You waiting for Aurelian, I take it?"

Confused at how his bully had known that, Jaune nodded uncertainly. He did not know how to react to this situation. Usually Cardin would relish the opportunity to punish him without a risk at his reputation. Secluded as they were in this room, was probably his best chance at that. Yet the boy seemed to be pensive if nothing else, an emotion that Jaune had first thought beyond the crude nature of his antagonizer, and one they seemed to share at the moment.

Cardin chuckled, shaking his head ruefully as he hefted his mace. "Yeah, I thought as much. I knew there was something off about that guy."

Jaune eyed Cardin curiously as he realized this was the first time they had spoken in a way that could be considered normal. Since day one the bigger boy had been set on making his life as difficult as possible, and had no issue adding verbal insult to his physical attacks. To say this unusual conviviality had astonished him, would have been, as Cassiel might have phrased it, horribly erroneous.

"Come on then." Cardin grunted absentmindedly, catching Jaune by surprise when he reaffirmed his grip upon the metal haft of his mace and tipped his chin towards the circular field dominating the center of the training room. "Let's see what you got in ya, Arc. Bout time we had a decent match without all the pomp and fancy crap waved around by Miss Goodwitch."

And there was the Winchester he knew so well, not that Jaune was in any way glad to see that, considering what it was Cardin wanted.

"Well… uhm…" Jaune looked around, hoping to see Cassiel enter in the nick of time to deliver him from this evil, but there was no sign of the eternally well-mannered boy, and Jaune realized that, for the moment, he was entirely on his own.

"Searching for your dad's permission, Arc?" Cardin asked, a less than cruel smirk adorning his lips as he eyed the blond haired boy with amusement.

"No." He retorted angrily, his face reddening at his bully's surly expression. Jaune felt his fingers curl tighter around the hilt of his sword and he stood tall from the bleacher, a look of false confidence adorning his otherwise soft features. The young blond thought of Cassiel as he gathered his courage, thinking on his friend's tireless gallantry, his impressive skill and boundless courtesy. There was someone he looked up to, someone he aspired to be like.

There was a boy that acted just like the knights in his mother's storybooks.

Jaune decided in that moment, as he strode as confidently as he could to the awaiting ring, that this was one battle he could fight on his own.

And in the shadow of the far doorway stood another, someone that wore a kind, but proud smile before he turned and walked away… though his moment of triumph was moderated by the amused blond woman that trailed behind him, muttering facetiously into his ear.

* * *

Ruby smiled a wide and happy smile as she looked to the modestly decorated corner of their dorm room, an expression that frequented her face whenever she looked upon or thought about the exclusively male member of her team. It was just so _awesome_ that she was able to get all the people she _really_ wanted onto her team of super friends, so awesome that sometimes Ruby didn't need a few cookies to feel like she was in the midst of her best sugar rush!

Beacon was so much better than she thought it was going to be, which was quite something indeed since her expectations had been higher than Nora on a pancake binge.

Everyone was just so dang cool!

Well Cardin and his friends were major butts… but everyone else was super!

Weiss' team was really awesome and liked to have fun, (well at least Ren and Nora did, Jaune was still a bit awkward about it and Weiss was kind of a party pooper), and Ruby had her own cool peeps. With Pyrrha, her new super besty, around to talk about cool things and eat cookies, it was like a slumber party every night! Blake was the mysterious girl with the even more mysterious past that spiced up any friend group. Even Yang was alright, despite their bad history of sharing bedrooms when they were younger.

And there was Cassiel of course, she could never forget about him. He was top tier friend material, always super helpful and super kind. And bonus! He was real good with homework and didn't mind letting her and Yang skim of his work before class. He was just an all-around super nice guy that seemed to genuinely like helping people. He even liked to draw as she recently found out, and she could usually find him scribbling away in a notebook when he was either between classes or relaxing at the end of the day. She was still working up the nerve to ask him if she could take a peek at his dabbling, Blake said she had seen it once before, and that it was actually really good.

Yeah, he was just really… super.

And yet… sometimes, when he thought no one was paying attention he'd look so… tired. In those moments she'd sometimes think he looked as old as Ozpin, which was weird because he couldn't more than twenty, right… right?

Ruby felt a frown try and surface to ruin her good mood, but she dashed it away with a wider grin. Nope. No Sir, no frowns thank you very much. Ruby was a smile and grin girl, dagnabbit.

"Are you… well, Miss Rose?" The boy of her thoughts interjected into her considerations with a mildly concerned question, appearing somewhat alarmed at the unsettlingly expansive smile on his team leader's face.

"Yep!' She quipped back quickly, widening her smile even more so he could see just how well she was.

The boy nodded, and slowly closed the notebook in his lap, returning it and his well-used pencil to their place under his pillow as he shared a look with the young girl's sister.

Yang, shamelessly perusing a men's fitness magazine, simply shrugged and let her head hang of the side of her bunk bed, returning to her ogling as her legs beat a lazy rhythm into the sheets under her.

And much to Cassiel's veiled distress, Ruby's smile remained. He was of course not privy to her thoughts, and to him all he could see was a young girl that had been boring a hole into his brain with innocent silver eyes and a much too wide smile. Even he found it hard to sketch under such stressful conditions, and after putting away his instruments of art, crossed the room and climbed up onto Blake's lofty to perch to speak with her, a place safe from Ruby's expressive eyes.

In the back Pyrrha smiled, watching her friends from a pleasant distance, happy to just absorb the casual sense of laidback friendship she had crossed an entire continent to find. She had finally escaped the haunting atmosphere of her unwanted fame, and she was eager to bask in her success.

All around it was just another quiet day at Beacon.

That is at least, until Cassiel's scroll trilled quietly.

The young man, in the midst of a convivial conversation with Blake, something regarding the gradual decline in literature's popularity in modern society, regarded the muffled beeping in his pocket with a grimace, a frown nearly invisible on his usually kind expression.

Ruby's grin withdrew from her face, and the other members of team RBYCN adopted similar looks of disappointed irritation.

This was not an unusual occurrence.

The boy looked appropriately apologetic as he extracted the device from his pocket and lifted it towards his ear, another quirk of his. Cassiel never seemed to like using the video call function. Sharing a look of concern with her older sister, Ruby tried to feign disinterest as he took his call, though she listened intently to the one-sided conversation.

"Hello?" A lingering pause.

"Yes, of course." An exasperated, but politely disguised sigh.

"I'll see to it promptly." He assured the unknown caller before thumbing the dismissal icon, shoving the scroll back into his dress pants. Cassiel regarded the far wall, eyes just as silver as Ruby's but absent of the young girl's relentless enthusiasm, focused beyond the partition of quarried stone.

A moment passed wherein the young man eventually noticed the lingering stillness in the wake of his conversation. Cassiel looked to his team, a smile spilling across his lips that was a touch too earnest for him as he lithely glided from Blake's bed and dropped gracefully to the floor.

Briefly, something unfamiliar traversed his face, but whatever that may have been remained indiscernible, fading far too quickly to be properly identified.

Yet, what Ruby had been able to somewhat recognize… well… it honestly scared her.

She hoped that this would finally be the time where he would explain to his team where it was he disappeared to nearly every night for the past few weeks. No matter what it was, Cassiel always remained honest with his team… his friends. It was one of his greatest qualities, or so at least it usually was. But, as every time before, her expectant anticipation would not come to be, and she watched with a pained frown as he made a blithe excuse, before slipping quietly out of the dorm room and into the night.

A tense silence followed his unexplained departure.

The reaction was equitable to a light flickering off, or the suddenness of a cut string. The ambient pleasantness of the dorm faded without his presence, and the sense of vitality in the room began to fade.

And it was in such moments as this, where vibrancy began to dissolve, that Ruby realized just how important Cassiel was to the synergy and general togetherness of Team RBYCN. For a boy of few words, it was surprising just how much his presence meant to them all.

"Well… this sucks." Yang muttered from across the room, all interest in her magazine foregone now that there was no longer a boy to playfully annoy. With a great harrumph, she tossed the publication over her shoulder, where it careened into the far wall and fell rather loudly with the rapid flutter of abused pages. She sat up, pulling a pair of her signature track shorts from their lazily discarded home on the floor beside her bed.

"And what exactly are you planning?" Blake wondered, a brow arched with familiar accusation.

"Isn't it obvious?" The blond retorted as she changed out of her uniform into her street clothes.

"I'm going to get some damn answers."

"You intend to spy upon our teammate?' Pyrrha wondered, her neutral tone disguising her opinion.

"Yep." Yang answered shamelessly.

The Mistralian Champion nodded to herself, leaping from her elevated position. "I find myself in agreement."

"Yang! Pyrrha!" Ruby gasped in surprise, her disappointment as evident as it was loud. "Spying is wrong! Cassiel deserves our trust even… even if he's been acting… weird lately." Her argument was a valid one, even if she could not muster the conviction to uphold her validation.

"Ruby's right." Blake offered her personal two cents.

"Thanks Blake."

"Nevertheless I think we should go see what he's up to."

"BLAKE!" The young reaper's gasp had risen from a shallow intake of breath to a full blown panic attack as her only supporter turned against her.

The dark haired girl shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry Ruby. Cassiel is entitled to his privacy, but in this instance I think it's prudent to at least discover where it is he spends his nights, if not at the dorm." Blake adopted a thoughtful expression, before turning a somewhat sly grin Ruby's way. "Consider this an… intervention of sorts."

The youngest amongst them huffed indignantly, arms crossed and lips pursed with the fullness of her displeasure as she resentfully yielded to Blake's logic. "Fine, but if we get caught I'm blaming Yang."

"Acceptable."

"Agreed."

Both Pyrrha and Blake nodded as the deal was struck, ignoring the blond girl's outraged shout as they prepared to don their street clothes.

With her corners securely covered, Ruby allowed a nearly unnoticeable smile to return. All in all it had worked out better than she expected. Now she had a reason to check on her friend, and her sister to fall back on if they were caught red handed.

That'll serve Yang right for letting her fall during initiation.

* * *

 _The places Ozpin shows us are really something. I think I'll send him a postcard._

Cassiel relented from the irritable sigh he felt building in his lungs as he checked the straps securing the breastplate bound snuggly around his torso. The familiar task was made abnormally difficult by the thick, plated gloves he wore, and worse than that, there was more to the troublesomeness they provided. Other than numbing his manual dexterity, which was already irksome enough, they were also a size smaller than they should have been. Nevertheless, they were the best he could find from the huntsman outfitter Ozpin had recommended to him, at least at such short notice. And though he'd had a brief adjustment period to adapt to the slight inconveniences, he remained woefully unsatisfied with his purchase. The leather was in good condition and the anchor points were secured tightly, but despite its above average quality, it remained inferior in his eyes, an unworthy accompaniment for a titan that had once worked the furnaces of the iron temple. He could have forged armor unlike anything Remnant has ever seen, weapons that would become legends unto themselves, and ammunition that even the Schnee Dust Company would envy, all of this, he could do in his sleep, but alas his days of sculpting metal were long behind him.

He would never again see his work turned to unrighteousness.

It was with great effort that he stowed his disquiet and dissuaded the rise of memory that threatened to kindle. Now was not the time for distraction.

His current equipment might not have been the plasteel raiment of his guardian wargear, but it would be better suited for his heightened activity than the old hunting leathers he used to wear in his exile. And the truth for such disparity cut deeper than Yang's uninformed observations. The reason for his lack of proper armaments was as foolish as it was disheartening. He had no one to blame but himself for the absence of the proper tools for a titan, a self-imposed penance for his sin of sightless negligence.

But he must digress, such wandering musings were a distraction ill-timed and fostered of his companions incessant need to natter, he did not want, nor need, ghost's wasted whimsicality.

Words of that kind had no place here.

"Mind your tongue." The guardian muttered in reprimand under his breath as he entered the nightclub, inspecting his leather jacket one last time to ensure that his armor and weaponry was properly concealed. Contrasting its usual lip, there was no witty rebuttal from the machine, and it went quiet without complaint. Undoubtedly it still felt guilty for causing his outburst several days ago. And the time between then and now had been unusually mute on its part.

Cassiel was just glad for the silence, grateful that there was one less thing to distract him at the moment. He was particularly irritated by the flashing strobe lights and the near deafening cacophony of music, which, while already a bothersome annoyance, had only been heightened in its cantankerous tenacity by the raised voices echoing through the open vestibule of the most popular location in all of Vale. He'd had enough of its wild propensities the first time he visited at the behest of the headmaster, and his opinion had not lightened despite multiple consecutive trips. This place was fraying his patience more in the past few minutes than the accumulative months he had spent at Beacon. And in that moment the ancient warrior regretted answering Ozpin's call. He'd been having a rather pleasant conversation and was still suitably exasperated at the disruption to his evening.

All the same, he stomached his disapproval without any legitimate complaint.

After all, _this_ was the reason he had come out of his self-imposed exile, not to relive the high school days he never had, those that had seemed so very important to some of the younger guardians he had served with. Cassiel as of late had been forced to remind himself of this realization with increasing frequency. There were times, quite a few, where his team made him forget his purpose for attending Beacon, made the years of his guardianship and exile seem like nothing but the unusual daydreams of a young boy. And it was unfortunate that the inevitable and sudden snap back into reality was made all the harsher for this recurrent truth.

The sigh buried in his chest finally found tenuous release, and the guardian shook his head wryly as he strolled down the carpeted stairs leading to the main dance floor, the pliable polyurethane soles of his boots muffled by the lavish flooring. Taking a left, he gave the writhing mass of humanity a wide berth and a wary eye as he skirted around the perimeter, arriving at the long bar that stretched across the entire rear wall of the building. It was hard to miss, even through the haze of colored lights and cigarette smoke. Honestly, this was an impressive arrangement for a venue that catered to such interests. He was sure it'd give the best clubs in the Last City a run for their money.

The cost of the alcohol on display alone must have been worth a considerable, if rather moderate, fortune, and the top of the bar was a single, expansive cut of polished Blackwood imported from the arid timberlands of Vacuo. But such trappings of perceptible wealth were to be expected from Junior's. Thousands of attendees filtered through its doors every night, from the most modest of people to the highest ranks of white collar society. His was a place for everyone, and from what Cassiel heard, the man made sure the whole city knew it. Of course this was not out of some kind of social altruism. Opening his place to more walks of life meant a larger crowd for his establishment, and an outwardly likable viewpoint that did well to disguise the much more profitable businesses he ran out the back.

Intrigue aside, tonight was proving to be far busier than Cassiel had originally expected. And he hoped there was no correlation between the increased popularity and the reason he had been called in on such short notice. Despite the identity he wore in this place and what it might portray, he took no pleasure in needless suffering. That was anathema to his oaths as a guardian, more so his very being. But he liked to think such thoughts were overly dramatic, nothing asked of him so far had yet to truly compromise his vows of protection, and he felt confident that there was no relation between the club's recent popularity and the reason he had been dragged down here on such short notice.

Apparently, there had been some kind of accident months ago, and the place had only opened its doors once again this week, which meant that this was the first Friday since its remodeling, which _also_ meant that the club was hellishly hectic as the young crowd started their weekend with explosive fanfare, and Cassiel considered himself lucky simply to have found an unoccupied stool at the counter. He shuddered at the very notion that he would have to mingle at one of the tables congested with drunken partygoers and hopeless gossipers.

As the rest of team RBYCN no doubt recognized not days after their formation, Cassiel was not a sociable man. His pleasure was derived from more… unceremonious places, like his cabin, or as of most recently, the team's dorm room. He'd had his fill of such raging parties in his youth, his true youth that is. Say what one will about the comparatively primitive revelries of the legion, but Cassiel had only ever met one man that could merry make like the old soldiers that had been his family. Shaxx was a legend unto himself, for more than his skill-at-arms. And as much as he missed his fellow titan's exploits, it was probably for the best of all when he set his intense drive towards creating the crucible. Though many young guardians would not think so, and Cassiel had his sympathy for them.

Even after an eon he could sometimes still feel the bruises.

The guardian held a fist to his chest, a grateful prayer for The Traveler's small mercies crossing his mind, as he settled himself in to wait. Thankfully, or perhaps unluckily depending on one's outlook, he was not to be kept long.

The first thing to intrude upon his thoughts while he waited for his drink, was a man's exclamation of surprise, that was immediately followed by the sound of a body impacting a table, and the unmistakable dissonance of shattered glass. Cassiel snapped to the noise within an instant of recognition, hand already inserted into his jacket and wrapped securely around his holstered sidearm, the benefit of eons of experience in combat offering him reflexes beyond the ken of mortal men.

But when he turned to the cause of the disruption, he relaxed, to some extent, a dry smile curling his lips as he watched a man be carried off by his friends, who nearly dropped their unconscious companion as they were warded off by the sheer irritation in the burning eyes of the woman he must have tried to drunkenly plie his luck with.

Despite the clamor, the mood of the nightclub remained unchanged, the sight entirely waived off by those familiar with the going-ons inside this place, and the whims of those who worked here, and Cassiel remained amused as he was eventually joined by the woman and her identical facsimile that followed demurely in her footsteps. They were not unfamiliar, and made for recent additions to the small pool of people he could address as amiable acquaintances, what was a rung lower on the social ladder from the members of his team. The list of those he cared to remember was short, and the one that included those he tentatively called friend, was even shorter.

They may not have been moral paragons, but he did not see enough wrong in the pair to take umbrage with their presence.

He had faced far worse in the deepest dark.

"Miss Malachite and… Miss malachite." The guardian greeted his newest associates somewhat whimsically, his usual method of reception offset by the nature of the twins and their unusually close connection. "Good evening."

"Apollyon… you're late." The eldest and, (quite honestly), the orneriest of The Malachite Twins grumbled as she pushed the patron off the chair to his left and sat in the newly vacated seat. Falling back onto the floor with an outraged squawk, the girl jumped to her feet with an indignant splutter, but upon seeing who it was that had evicted her, the woman's protests died and her face paled considerably as she hurriedly backed away and disappeared into the crowd, deciding there and then to take the shrewdest path.

Cassiel did not fault her for showing such prudence. He had seen enough of The Malachite twins to know that their reputation was a well-deserved one.

At times there was wisdom in retreat.

Watching the woman run away with a hidden smile, the guardian shrugged in reply. "I set out as soon as my boss called me. It's not my fault some people can't be punctual." As he was a man that took pride in both his punctuality and professionalism, he spoke truthfully. But, much like he had predicted, Ozpin's whims and extracurricular assignments continued to be frustratingly last minute. At times he could not tell if this irritant was harmless, or merely a source of inexhaustible amusement for one of the snidest men he had ever had the… pleasure of knowing.

His frustration was strong enough to bleed into his tone, and the titan shook his head as he grabbed the small decanter of peculiarly florescent fluid left for him by the bartender, tipping the glass under his mask and into his waiting mouth. The alcohol was hardly noticeable in the overpowering fruity tartness of the strange blue liquid, and while he was not as enamored with the ancient human pastime involving the excessive consumption of fermented liquids as he used to be, he was willing to admit that it wasn't half bad.

Admittedly, the drink paled in comparison to the barrels of aged eliksni brandy he, Shaxx, and Saladin had plundered from a ketch belonging to a fallen kell who had far too high an opinion of himself. In the end, as it turned out, Varnak was not destined to be the next kell of kells, and had instead left a rather nice gift for the titans that had supplanted such visions of glory.

Cassiel had never been able to find a drink as fine or as smooth in the thousand or so years since then.

"Had enough time to slap on that stupid bucket though, huh?" Melanie countered his banal remark with a grimace that was just soft enough that it might have been able to be construed as playful, as she studied the dark black metal of the ballistic mask enclosing his head.

His was a reasonable precaution considering the character he was most recently portraying, an overplayed tactic he really should have all but expected considering the conniving oddity that was his employer. The concept itself was rather cliché, and therefor could have been considered unimaginative, if unequivocally uninspired. Truthfully, Cassiel was beginning to wonder if Ozpin found all of his ' _brightest'_ ideas in the dregs of modern cinema, and the guardian feared that at the rate the weird man was going and to the extent he was willing to amuse himself, he would soon stop bothering to question such strangeness.

Nevertheless the headmaster's eccentricity reemerged to wreak havoc upon his decorous sensibilities. It was almost commendable, how the peculiar schoolmaster could continue to cause issue, even as he ruminated up in his clockwork tower, far away from the plans he concocted.

Thankfully, the guardian was not unaccustomed to working under a plethora of false identities. He'd been living several lives for the past nine or so hundred years, various pseudonyms and aliases that allowed him to walk amongst society unnoticed throughout the ages. In truth this was practically standard conduct. And as exasperating and unnecessarily complicated as Ozpin made this, he could at the least tolerate the overwrought truism he had been assigned for his character.

In answer to her quip the sunbreaker chuckled as he turned to the other twin, who was markedly different from her sibling. "A pleasure to see you again, Miltiades, I hope your evening started better than mine."

His answer came in the form of a demure nod, and the man smiled in return, though the action undoubtedly went unnoticed under the incommodious headgear he was forced to wear.

Of the two he quite preferred the company of Miltiades, if it was not too rude to pick favorites. Despite the mildly ill temper of her sister, she always seemed to treat him kindly, near since the moment they were first introduced, what seemed like, and probably was, several weeks in the past. Considering that sleep was more an idle diversion than a biological necessity, when he went for long stretches without, it became difficult to differentiate the passing days.

As usual, Melanie huffed indignantly at being ignored, and the guardian leisurely turned his head to the side to avoid the bladed heel that flashed towards his face. Had she been a millimeter closer, his mask would have been redecorated with a new abrasion.

"You are getting faster." The guardian-turned-student-turned-spy-turned-imitation-mercenary, admitted with a quiet chuckle. "You are one step closer to earning your scarf back."

"What kind of asshole takes a woman's favorite scarf?" She retorted, the girl subconsciously tracing a finger over the pale, exposed skin of her throat. Her sister, concealing a smile behind a politely raised hand, shared briefly in his amusement.

"One that does not take threats idly." He answered good-naturedly, his affability unmarred by her unsatisfied tone. "Consider it a lesson of sorts, one regarding the wisdom of picking ones battles. And perhaps next time you will be smart enough to offer respect to those stronger than you. You are lucky I was feeling particularly gregarious that day. I could have taken more."

"How much more?" Melanie inquired slyly, the stark whiteness of her heel, and its razor sharp blade, resting comfortably on his thigh as she quirked her head to the side and offered him her most alluring smile.

Undoubtedly she had used this angle numerous times with consistent success, but he was a target beyond her whims.

The guardian endured her youthful attempt at seduction with mild amusement. Such flirtatiousness was a recent development that had arisen after he had beaten her fourth attempt at earning her feathered shawl back after he had taken it as his trophy. Even had he possessed the interest to reciprocate, he knew it was just another of her games, a different field of battle she felt could be more successfully in returning what belonged to her.

Unfortunately for Melanie, she would soon discover that his appetites were sternly controlled. After all, if Yang's relentless and bold gloating could not produce a reaction from him, she stood little chance. His will was stronger than that of a young woman barely into her twenties. Her brief life could not hope to compete with thousands of years of virtuous temperance.

He chuckled as he pushed her advance away with a capricious shake of his head. "My apologies, Melanie, but you are a little too young for me."

"Funny, you don't sound old." The girl eyed his mask closely, curiosity lingering in her viridian eyes. "What, do you prefer woman with a little more… experience?"

"What I prefer," he replied, turning his head away to search for the man that inevitably followed after the girls' arrival, a screen as they were to test a situation before he revealed himself. Ghost pinged his vision, a tactical overlay superimposing his gaze as it highlighted the well-dressed figure approaching him from behind the counter, "is to keep things strictly professional. I am not here to philander. I am here to get paid."

"Melanie, you could stand to learn something from Apollyon here." Spoke the man behind the counter as he brushed the neatly trimmed beard decorating his features. "Best thug I ever hired."

"While appreciated, such words are unneeded, Sir." The guardian inclined his head at Junior's praise. "One should not be commended for doing one's duty."

The owner of the club rolled his eyes in accustomed exasperation. "There you go again, with all that fancy word shit." He reached under the counter and pulled a crystal decanter from below, tossing it towards his outsourced contractor with a pitying shake of his head. "You're a goddamn mercenary, and it's about time you finally started acting like one. Seriously, I've seen morticians livelier than you."

The guardian caught the bottle and eyed the glowing red fluid with mild interest, before he allowed a shrug to roll across his shoulders and popped the cork. "As you say, Sir."

Junior sighed and looked up to the ceiling for guidance. "You're hopeless, you know that? Strangest damn merc I ever met. And I've been through quite a few of em, especially in the past few days, never should'a listened to Roman, that bastard. You know, you're lucky that you also just so happen to be a damn good one. Well… I don't expect you'll feel so lucky after tonight is over." He added, a rather grim appearance overtaking his once amused expression.

Cassiel, cautioned by the drop in tone, lowered the bottle from his lips as he turned to address Junior. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean." He replied with a wry smile. "Is that you are finally getting the chance you wanted. Your… work ethic, and ability to consistently deliver, hasn't gone unnoticed in certain circles. One such circle has extended an invitation for a… preliminary consultation of sorts. That is if you are still interested anyway."

The guardian studied the bearded man, taking note of the passing hint of anxiety that flashed over his expression as his eyes subconsciously lifted to the mirrored pane of glass marking the VIP lounge that dominated the level above the main floor. "While I would not blame you for walking away, this particular individual does not take kindly to being stood up. They get a little… combustive."

Following Junior's gaze, the titan studied the non-reflective observation window. He could feel the dormant embers of excitement inside him, reigniting the ashes that had once been the prominence of the pride he held in his abilities as a guardian. Weeks of covert operations, countless nights spent extorting the defenseless, participating in trivial inter-gang conflicts, and the waking hours lost as he tried to rationalize what Ozpin had asked of him. Had he been the guardian that had first laid eyes on the last bastion of mankind, so many, many years ago, he would not have been able to endure the continuous perversions of his vocation.

Time, despite its inability to perform its intended purpose, had changed him nonetheless. His service to mankind had taken him to the brink of the abyss, and the farthest reaches of the darkness he swore an oath to defeat. Therein he had learned of the unequivocal truth of their duties, that even in light there was shadow.

In the face of such stark realities, the insignificant woes that befall the hardworking local shop owner and the desperate criminal were irrelevant. The truth of the real world was a bitter drug to swallow, and not every guardian was cut from the sturdiest cloth.

To descend too deeply into that frame of mind, wherein the ends justified the means, was in itself a different danger than most of his kind was used to. So it was known and always would be known, that the greatest paragons of men had fallen with the noblest of intentions. Guardians, even with all their gifts and the highest of scruples, were not exempt from the cruelest of ironies. Cassiel was well acquainted with the consequences of when a guardian lost their way. And he prayed that he himself would never cross the line that could not be uncrossed.

Hopefully tonight would not prove to be the tipping point.

"Best not to keep them waiting then." He set down the bottle Junior had given him and gestured for the man to lead him onwards. The man nodded, passing through the bar flap as Cassiel looked back to the twin sisters. The guardian felt a smile coming as he reached into his jacket and tossed Melanie what she desired.

The girl caught the scarf, looking upon him with some understandable confusion. For weeks he had been keeping it from her, it had almost become a game for them, though one party was more amused by it than the other, and she was rightly bemused by this sudden change of heart.

To her unspoken questions he shrugged. "In case I prove to be unsatisfactory to my potential employers, I figure you'll be wanting that back."

She seemed to consider his words for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing her before she threw it back at him. Startled, the guardian returned her confusion with his own as he took it back.

He received a shrug himself as she offered a coy smile. "I think I'll wait to take it from you, seems more fun that way."

Her smile was one returned.

"We will just have to see about that."

* * *

"So… ready to admit you lost him yet?"

"I did not lose him." Yang grumbled tetchily, warding off her younger sister's smug grin with a palm pressed firmly against her face. The ensuing, muffled squeal of indignation was snubbed as the blond girl scanned the late evening crowd and avoided the ineffectual, floundering arms thrown upon her. "I just need a second to… gather my bearings, yeah that's it."

However the rest of their little party did not possess assurance in the self-proclaimed leader of this search party, or rather _friendship_ _expedition_ as Ruby kept calling it. Blake felt an infinitesimal shudder wrack her body at the similar connotation held within the various traps Yang had wrangled her into. After a moment of consideration, she nodded to herself. They had spent enough time wandering aimless through the streets,

Now was the time to speak out.

"I vote no confidence." Blake spoke up from her silent vigil in the back of their group, leveling an unamused glare at the vibrant blond haired girl that had been leading them on a directionless jaunt through the thoroughfares of Vale. It was clear to her, and the others in their party, that Yang Xiao Long was not an excellent tracker or even a decent navigator. "Furthermore I motion that we open the position of leader for reelection."

"What?" Lavender eyes widened in shock and betrayal.

"I agree." Pyrrha nodded gravely.

"Come on guys, I just need a minute to figure out where we are. I can find him, honest!" Yang turned to her sister, her only hope at retaining her power. "Come on Rubes, you believe in me… right?"

To be fair to Yang and all parties present, Ruby looked genuinely apologetic as she scuffed her shoes against the sidewalk and glanced down contritely. "Sorry Yang, but I vote yes."

Blake tried and barely was able to mask her self-satisfied smirk at the look of anguish on Yang's face as even her sister turned on her, though that she not have been any manner of surprise considering the events since the start of the semester. "The vote is tallied, three for and one against, motion carries. Yang Xiao Long you are hereby removed from office. All in favor of electing me as leader say aye."

"Yep."

"Sure."

"…No..."

"So we have it." Blake pronounced officiously, a sense of righteous satisfaction pouring into her as she revealed in her victory. "By popular vote I am now in charge." She took great pleasure in fact that for once, she was able to get one over on the girl that had been tormenting her relentlessly. Maybe now Yang would reap what she sowed.

Finally, things were starting to look up for Blake Belladonna.

"So then… Miss Leader Pants." Yang grumbled, her lack of enthusiasm quite evident as she crossed her arms in a fierce pout that would have given Ruby a run for her Lien. While she had seceded control without complaint, it was clear that Yang was far from satisfied with the turn of events, an opinion that was polarized by Blake's elation. "What's _your_ plan?"

"It's fairly simple." She admitted as she reached into her bag, ready to unveil the grand, sweeping arc of her carefully plotted plan, the culmination of her vengeful ambitions found in her scroll that could pinpoint the location of their missing teammate. Yet the sweet savor of her victory proved bitter as fate decreed it would not be realized.

A shambling figure burst from the crowd, stumbling into Blake at the height of her success. The dark haired girl let loose a startled mewl as a sudden weight impacted roughly against her chest and sent her spinning towards the ground. Learned instinct and a judicious use of Ruby's semblance were all that saved her from colliding with the floor.

"What the hell? Watch where you're going asshole!" Yang snapped as she grabbed the ostensibly drunken pedestrian by the shoulder and tossed them aside before they could cause any further issue.

In her anger, birthed from Blake's turnabout and deepened by the interruption, she was not entirely gentle, sending the passerby to meet the hard cement of the sidewalk without a thought. However, it was as they were thrown to the ground in whirl that she began to realize that this person was not unfamiliar.

Tanned skin, silver eyes, and brown hair, Yang closely recognized all three of these traits as she stared in stunned surprise and mounting regret at the young man she had thrown to the ground.

Cassiel, his complexion pale and his gaze withdrawn, looked up at the four girls with a worrisomely forced smile as he pressed a hand tight to the side of his coat, just below his armpit. "By the light…." He gasped softly, the sound unusually wet and ragged. "The Traveler works in mysterious ways indeed."

"Cas?" Yang inhaled sharply, the longer she looked at him the more alarming the situation became.

"The one and only." He replied with a chuckle that was as forced as it was uncharacteristic of his usually reserved disposition.

At that moment the blond girl's brain finally kicked back into motion as she realized he was still lying upon the ground, and that other pedestrians walking the streets were beginning to take notice.

"Oh gods I'm _so_ sorry!" Yang apologized profusely as she reached down to help him back up, grabbing him gently by the shoulders. As she made to lift him up, he winced and released a quiet gasp of pain.

Surprised, Yang nearly let go, afraid that she might have been hurting him somehow, but Ruby's exclamation of concern was enough for her to recognize that their reunion was not going to be a pleasant one.

"You're _bleeding_!" The young reaper cried out fretfully as she flashed over to his side in a blur of rose petals, worried words firing out of her mouth at a rapid fire pace. It was then that Yang noticed the vertical tear in Cassiel's leather jacket and the dark red fluid dribbling between his fingers.

"What happened?" Pyrrha skirted towards him at a far slower, but equally quickened pace as she examined the gape in his coat with an analytical eye. As was required to participate in the tournaments that gave her the fame she so loathed, she had been trained in basic first aid. And at the moment everything she had learned from her instructors was warning her of the severity of his injury.

"It seems that I have underestimated the unpleasantness of some of this city's residents." He offered his explanation with a dash of morbid amusement, gently pushing away the girl's fingers as she tried to examine his injury. "Not to fret, the rather coarse brute made off worse than I."

"Worse huh?" Yang seemed askance as she took in his disheveled appearance, and the dark stain ruining his brand new jacket. Then, the reality of the situation came rushing back at her, and the blond leveled an accusing finger at the boy. "Now wait a minute there, are you saying that someone attacked you, and you want us to _not_ worry about it?"

"Yang… is correct." Blake, in a rare moment, agreed with her tormentor, though she appeared to find that distasteful judging by the sourness of her expression. On the other hand, part of that might be attributed to this recent taint on her success. "You have been hiding something Cassiel, and it is time you were honest with your team. However this is neither the time nor the place to press the topic." She concluded, gesturing to the nosy bystanders that had started to gather on either side of the street to watch the unusual spectacle. "I believe this is something that can be further explained after we return to Beacon, and _you_ visit the infirmary, and that is nonnegotiable." Blake interjected before Cassiel could speak up.

He sighed, wincing as he breathed too deeply. "Yes... I suppose it would be foolish to argue."

"Yep!" Ruby affirmed, her expression a mixture of assured certainty and solid determination as she set herself under his arm to offer her support for the walk back to the airship dock. "No more secrets, mister! As your team leader I am ordering you to fess up."

Cassiel glanced to Pyrrha, silently wondering if she too was agreeing to this intervention, and was met with the stern countenance of a mother prepared to scold her child, arms crossed in disappointment, and eyebrows lowered by disapproval. One would think that an immortal warrior of light, a archetype of legend, would be unfazed by the dissatisfied glare of a young woman.

They would be wrong.

And so it was that the guardian realized his fate was sealed.

* * *

 _AN: Yep... that's right folks, not dead. Although it has been a long looooooooong time since I last posted. I blame my crazy workload for that, it's really been keeping my ass busy I'll tell you that! Hopefully y'all haven't given up on me yet. Rest assured I am still kicking... sorta. I try to get a few words in here and there where I can. So apologies if this chapter seems to have ended off weirdly. Couldn't really find a different way, and I just know that almost as soon as this is posted it'll probably come to me. Expect spelling errors and the embarrassing fuckery that happens when you write dead tired and half asleep. Gonna try and work on Legacy for a bit, maybe hit on At Duty's End since that seems to be so popular. Hopefully, god willing, (seriously, I might need ya help lord) I'll have something else out without such a horrid gap in content. Been thinking also of a RWBY and Halo cross, since one or two I've come across are pretty damn good. But that's just a thought at the moment since I have a hard time publishing what I already got._

 _Anyways, hopefully this jumbled mess of letters somewhat constructed into the form of a footnote, can answer any questions out there._

 _Keep the faith!_


	10. Ashes to Ashes

Ashes to Ashes

 _The atmosphere was different up on the second level of Junior's club. And the guardian was, as ever, relieved at the drastic change in environment. Gone were the overactive crowds and raucous revelries, here there was reserved silence and muted conversations. The patrons that visited this place, from what Cassiel understood, were of… elevated standing. Some were merely the wealthier citizens of Vale enjoying the luxuries provided by their social status, the others were… less than stellar representatives of society. The dominant portion of the clientele were more legally disinclined_ , the movers and shakers _of the criminal underworld. And now… he supposed it was not inaccurate to say that he could be considered one of them. The strides he had made as Ozpin's operative had been secured throughout several weeks of illicit conduct, a crucial, albeit unfortunate sacrifice as he had been told._

 _Cassiel did not how to feel about that._

 _Whatever endgame Ozpin was attempting to orchestrate had better be the deliverance upon mankind that had been advertised. If he had nothing to show for all his efforts by tonight… then he and the headmaster would have words._

 _And they would not be kind._

" _Well… this is it kid."_

 _The guardian paused, coming to a stop as he looked back to a clearly uncomfortable Junior, standing somewhat uneasily beside a black iron door stenciled with the words VIP LOUNGE 1. He thought it strange to see a man so utterly confident appear so out of depth, especially in his own house. Cassiel had learned during his employ that there was little on Remnant that could faze Hei Xiong, the man was as shrewd a businessman as he was a stoic kingpin. Interesting enough this was not new to witness whenever he alluded to his mysterious benefactors. There had been more than a few occasions where their reference was needed, mostly in conversations with street gangs who thought they were ready to make it big. In those instances, the guardian had been sent in to… educate them, on why they were utterly unprepared._

 _Often enough, he need only mention the_ idea _of Junior's associates before they caved, which spoke more powerfully than any words on the veracity of this organization. Whoever these people were, they clearly possessed considerable influence throughout the criminal underworld, and Ozpin had informed him that he feared this could eventually create a threat not only to Beacon, but the entirety of Vale, if not Remnant itself. The guardian doubted criminals could be as dangerous as the headmaster predicted, but he was still willing to give the idea credence._

 _He had seen, and battled, dangers of an even more lovecraftian nature. The cosmos was a dangerous expanse of unknown that housed horrors that defied comprehensible description. There were more than just the known threats to humanity, Older, darker things that dwelled in the obscurity of the void and waited patiently in the unexplored corners of the universe, eldritch beings that even the infinite complexity of the Vex, or the sheer belligerence of the Cabal, could never hope to understand._

 _There were things that even The Traveler feared._

 _After all… a God did not flee from nothing._

 _The guardian caged such thoughts, banishing them into the dark recesses of his mind, experience warning him that to even think of such things consciously, was an inherent danger of its own divination. Simple acknowledgment of these powers could open a doorway to their influence and not even a guardian was beyond their corruption._

 _Thoughts of the others left behind, he focused once more on the present, reminding himself that he had far more clear and present concerns to point his attention towards._

" _Whatever happens after this point," Junior continued, unawares of the guardian's musing. "You'll be on your own. I like you kid, hell I'd go so far as to say you were one of my best employee, but I'm not gonna stick my neck out for ya… not for these people."_

 _Cassiel shrugged, wholly unsurprised. "I would not have expected you to." Hei Xiong was a likeable fellow, for a criminal. But Cassiel knew already not to expect much. Men like him, they were not of the kind to risk anything for anyone, unless it benefited them in some way. In any case, the guardian would not have wanted the help of a felon. Just because he found Hei to be of an alright sort, did not mean he approved of his activities. Should he be asked to, Cassiel would dutifully drag him into the arms of the VPD. But he would not, for a rather simple reason._

 _Better the devil you know._

 _The other man paused slightly, perhaps made uneasy by the emotionless, indifferent reply he received. Then he himself shrugged, muttering under his breath as he stuck an arm out to open the door for Cassiel._

" _Good luck, kid." The club owner murmured quietly, an unexpected sheen of reassurance flickering in his eyes._

" _I don't need luck." The guardian asserted as he stepped into the darkened room._

 _As it so happened, he oft made his own._

* * *

Cassiel awoke to a stint of confusion, muddled memories intertwined within half-finished dreams. The guardian opened his eyes, a strange bleariness overtaking him as he sat up in a bed that was not his own. The room was bright, blindingly so, at least for one awakening from a heavily sedated sleep. It might have been a long time since he had last been medicated, but the experience was one he would not forget. He found pharmaceutical drugs… unpleasant.

 _Ah ha… morning soldier, sleep well?_

Ghost's amusement was palpable as the guardian shook off the dazed fugue that draped over his mind, the greatest irritant that backed his aversion to modern medicine. As a man that considered himself somewhat of an intellectual, anything that interfered or otherwise tampered with his faculties was anathema to his sensibilities. Had he been of any coherent state upon his return to beacon, he would have requested that they forego the use of pharmacological painkillers, though the request might have sounded abnormal to the staff. He was no stranger to pain and would gladly endure such unpleasant conditions to retain his mental acuity.

"What are you talking about?" Cassiel muttered quietly, nursing, much to his bewilderment, a growing migraine.

 _Oh… nothing much._ Ghost replied snippily. _Just that you were clinically dead for three and a half minutes._

That announcement, delivered with the cool brevity usually associated with Ghost when he was on an irritable binge, sent a jolt of surprise through the guardian, wiping away any trace of involuntary exhaustion he had been feeling.

That such a revelation might clear away his medically induced fugue was of no surprise, however the context of his machine's words gave him considerable pause.

"Dead?" He voiced quietly, his tone contemplative as he studied the pale white sheets of the bed in what he had deduced was Beacon's infirmary. The room was empty, a row of vacant hospital cots and the soft chatter of machines his only company. He realized then, that the sedatives were not the only thing that dulled his cognition.

Resurrection often left one's mind in a discordant state.

 _Correct._ Ghost confirmed, its playful demeanor receding sharply at his question. _I was able to enhance your cellular regeneration, but only initially on a dermal level. The damage to your chest was quite severe. The blade punctured your chest cavity and damaged your pulmonary artery. During the airship ride to Beacon, you entered cardiac arrest and… expired. Thankfully, I was able to bring you back before your friends noticed. To them, you simply passed out. Admittedly, your team did not take to that very well anyways. But at least you are here and decidedly not dead._

Cassiel took a moment to stew on Ghost's information, before finally deciding on a response. "Friends… huh?" The man asked wryly.

Ghost was not amused.

 _Guardian!_ The machine snapped heatedly. _This is not a joking matter. You can't brush this off… not this time. You were dead! Deceased! Unalive! I had to revive you, manually! It was by The Traveler's own grace that the damage was not extensive enough to necessitate a full reset. I can't bring you back, not like I used to. You were lucky I had sufficient stored light to fix enough of the damage just so I could jumpstart your heart. Even then it was far too close for comfort. That was almost_ _ **it**_ , _guardian._

The machine paused, its tirade softening.

 _I was not designed to function without a guardian, Cassiel._

Cassiel pushed through his fatigue, and smiled, a soft, reassuring lilt making its home on his face. "I am sure you would have figured something out. You always do."

Ghost made a sound in his head that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. _I would prefer that I not have to, guardian. Please… don't make this a habit. You know where we are, and what that means. We can't be reckless anymore, not that we were, even back then. But that is beside the point. You know what I'm saying. We have to be more careful, because there are no more second chances, no redoes and no resets. I… have little light left to give._

It was difficult for the guardian to refrain from resorting to his usual disregard, and he had to resist the urge to play off the gravity of the situation. To do so now would be in bad taste, and only alienate himself from his ghost. This time he did not take solace in his usual aggressive whimsicality, browbeating his stubborn pride into submission in order to accept the unpleasant truth at hand. "I will admit that I am… somewhat out of practice."

 _ **The blade suddenly lunged out of the darkness, Cassiel leaped to the side, his sense for combat dulled, his reaction… too slow.**_

Cassiel winced in self-conscious memory, brushing a hand to his side heavily wrapped in thick gauze, struggling to stifle his embarrassment. An army of Grimm meant nothing to him, their numbers a trivial anecdote to a guardian of his caliber. He had fought their legions for years beyond rational consideration, the greatest of their creatures a nuisance when he was at the height of his power. Their attempts at ambush were the efforts of children, at worst a mild nuisance, although more often a brief amusement. But a man with a blade, a sword aimed by intelligent thought and devious cunning, was not, and would never be a laughing matter. The fool that he was, he had not expected a blade in the dark, and it seemed he had paid the price for his negligence.

He had, in point of fact, nearly paid the ultimate price.

The frustration he felt was hot and poignant, the sense of failure a burning brand searing across his mind, another reminder of how far and how hard he had fallen, how much he had lost, not only of his past, but of himself. The mere thought was inconceivable, a man with a sword hiding in the dark, had nearly overcome him, a guardian with eons of experience in war and the art of battle. He had survived the most cunning of Hive deceptions and outmaneuvered the best strategic minds of the Cabal, confounded even the convoluted plans of the Vex. To be brought so low, by a mortal of all things, hurt more than his greatest injuries, more than his most humiliating deaths as a fledgling guardian.

He was not just out of practice, but a disgrace to his inheritance. His ascendancy had been stolen from him, his abilities as a titan waning in the twilight of his existence. Much had been lost to the insipid leaching of his light as this world slowly sucked him dry, that which had granted him the divine supremacy to usurp the Taken King receding from the depths of his soul. The blazing fire that resided inside him diminished, and the greatness of his prime withered away in the unending centuries of his isolation.

He had no future to look forwards to, no magnificent resurgence of his powers. The Traveler's light was but a fickle shadow of itself on this world, hardly enough to lessen the decline of his gifts, present enough to drag his existence to a torturous extent.

And yet he was content in his withering exile. His years had been long and fraught with both glories and tragedies. He had accomplished great feats and formed lasting friendships. As a man he was fortunate to have more good memories then bad, a genuine achievement considering his long lived existence. Cassiel harbored no resentment towards this world or its people. His problems had always been his own. He was, plainly put, grateful that he might spend his last days helping this errant humanity survive, that he would at least have purpose in the end.

Or so he had once thought.

The board was again set, new pieces put in play, and their master posing a greater danger than ever before. But he did not have the ability rise to the occasion, the true strength of his guardianship bled by decades of negligence. His shame was glaring and Cassiel knew that he had been a fool. He had left just when he had been needed most. He could not look upon this world, in all its disunity and chaos, and not blame himself.

And now this world might pay the price for his neglect.

 _I suppose that means you'll just have to get back on the horse._ Ghost joked, the light imbued machine, noticing the seriousness of its guardian, tempered its reprimand with soft affection. It materialized in a sudden burst of scattered light, its constantly shifting chassis drawing Cassiel's attention as it floated towards the small table beside his bed. A soft blue glow projected from its photoreceptor, bathing the table, and its assorted contents, in a warm azure hue.

The guardian's inner turmoil receded, his dour concerns of the unpredictability of the future momentarily waylaid as he watched the small machine curiously examine the planter, and its singular red rose, before turning to the attending notes beside the flowerpot.

"This is…?"

" _Get well cards, from your team and team SALV. It's honestly rather adorable. Miss Rose even left you a flower… how fitting."_ The light construct answered; its tone betwixt amusement and the barest annotation of what he believed to be the foundation of genuine fondness.

Cassiel grunted quietly, one hand still clutched to his throbbing side, and the other crossing over his lap to examine the first of the eight, color coordinated cards left for him, the pile stacked in no particular order or preference. His eyes scanned the face of the letter at the top, crimson cardstock, no doubt pressed from machinery in an industrial complex, the saddened eyes of a puppy staring back up at him from the laminated paper. Curious, he flipped it open, to see the small dog, its eyes now lit up with contentment and surrounded by a plethora of other smaller canines. A slight smirk creased his lips as the guardian looked to the card's words, then the small note penned into the bottom of the page in a familiar untidy scrawl.

 _ **When things get ruff, don't be sad.**_

 _ **Be glad, because your pack will always have your back!**_

 _ **Get well soon!**_

 _The Beacon infirmary staff says we can't stay around here and wait until you wake up, so we all thought we'd leave you cards, so that when you wake up, in some way, you won't be alone. Hang in there Cassiel, and remember, no sad frowns!_

 _Ruby_

The guardian hummed softly to himself, the sound born of no real tangible emotion. As he studied the written words left by his team leader, and felt the earnest regard of their writer, there was _something,_ a sensation that he could feel stir inside him, an ethereal glimmer of something… indescribable. He could not dredge a word that might do it justice, not from the vastness of his vocabulary. It was unidentifiable, unquantifiable, and yet… warm.

He set down Ruby's card with considerable care, and picked up the next one, bright yellow and with the depiction of a slumbering dragon on the front, the yellow drake snoozing contentedly in a cave mouth. Inside was written a similarly phrased rehash of words in an infinitely untidier scratch of lettering. The familiarly coquettish tone creased his smirk into a smile, and he returned it to the bedside table with a wry shake of his head.

Cassiel refrained from looking through the rest, at least for now, He was far too preoccupied trying to navigate the labyrinth of his conflicted thoughts. The friendship these adolescents showed him and the continued severity of their attachment was… unexpected, and his appreciation for their existence, even more so. And yet at the same time he could not shake the sense that he had failed them. The dire nature of their world was born from his unwillingness to face the truth of his past and atone for his mistakes.

The Grimm, or so at least their master, a blight he had no small part in creating.

As always, ghost was there to knit him back together. The light infused machined roamed to his side, hovering across from his head as it studied him with its glowing blue optic.

" _There are no such things as endings, just…"_

"New beginnings…" The guardian finished with a wry smile. He very much doubted that old Osiris's annoying adage was ever intended for the rigors of his life, but there was still some comfort to be had from the crazy hermit's words.

The guardian shared a knowing look with his faithful steward, before the multifaceted machine vanished in a disappearing haze of glowing particles, leaving him alone in the room as the far doors to the clinic opened. Cassiel listened amusedly at the repetitive clack of a cane on sanitized tile, and the soft patter of shoes, showing a genial smile to the man that entered.

Cassiel inclined his head, the lingering trace of his whimsicality fading away as he greeted his guest. "Headmaster…" He spoke softly, a distinctly pleasant greeting that was unusual in regards to the usual severity of their many previous conversations. He looked about the room as Ozpin neared, noting that the staff were unusually absent, and had been so since his awakening. An oddity considering there should have been at least a tending nurse to watch over him as he slept.

His gaze was inevitably drawn back to the headmaster, and his smile changed from pleasant to one that was somewhat bemused. For a mortal, Ozpin could be quite the conspirator.

"Aurelian, you seem to be in a pleasant mood, all things considered." The man shared in his smile, perhaps knowingly as his cane thumped lazily across the floor. He made his way to a seat beside the guardian's bed and set himself gently upon the hard backed plastic, a relived sigh emerging from him as he settled himself in.

"A matter of perspective, Sir." Cassiel answered the unspoken question that was no doubt forming, retrieving the as of yet untouched, black, cat eared note sitting at the table. He fiddled with the card for several moments before opening it to read the succinct, diminutive message scribed neatly at the bottom. He smiled, nodding to himself before moving to the next, a rounded one of burnished bronze coloration. "A friend recently alluded that I suffer from a rather unfortunate disposition."

"A friend?" Ozpin prompted curiously, his eyes studying the barren hospital room before returning to the only present occupant, brow raised with unspoken interest.

Cassiel shrugged. "Despite what initial appearances might suggest, I do indeed have friends, Oz."

"Like Team RBYCN?" Ozpin prompted curiously.

"They are of an… agreeable disposition, yes. But I have an individual of a more dated relationship."

"I was not aware."

There was a silence between the headmaster and the guardian, one that Ozpin endured contentedly as he matched the silent cross-examination of the man who only pretended to be his student.

"It is good that you have such people to rely on. We all need a shoulder to lean on, and perhaps, one day, I hope to meet your shoulder." The grey haired man laughed softly, tilting his head slightly to the left. "That does sound rather odd, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps..." The guardian mused neutrally as the tone of the conversation became too personally interrogative for his liking.

Sensing that he would be progressing no further down that line of inquiry, the master of the school readied to bring about the real topic of his visit. Tapping his cane idly upon the pristine laminate tiles, he seemed somewhat… apprehensive to continue.

"It may not be my place to ask, but I do feel the need." He finally relented after the perceivable stretch of silence.

Cassiel followed his transparent gaze to the thick wrapping of gauze on his chest, and nodded slowly. He had been expecting the issue to be aired, but that did not make the subject any easier to discuss. "I… made a mistake." He admitted with a reluctance that prolonged the delivery of the simple explanation for a great deal of time.

Suitably, the headmaster was equally as patient in his reply, though he was no less confused. Such confusion was understandable, considering he was at least somewhat aware as to the guardian's true ability.

"A mistake?"

"Yes." The word came out with some lingering bitterness, but if he could not lie to himself, he would not lie to Ozpin. "I have… misjudged the seriousness of the enemy, and was unprepared for their methods."

"So… you were compromised?" Ozpin concluded, the slight, almost unnoticed twitch at the corner of his mouth the only visible sign of his disappointment.

"No. I was tested." The guardian replied, his answer seeming only to confuse the headmaster further. Sighing in resignation, Cassiel prepared to divulge all he had learned inside Junior's nightclub. How far this disease had spread… and just how monumentally he had failed.

* * *

The atmosphere of the hallway outside the infirmary was eager, if also somewhat irritating given the emotionally energized and highly unpredictable personality of Team RBYCN's illustrious leader. Thankfully, as the older sister to the beast herself, Yang was afforded some sort of acclimation to Ruby's antics.

And other than Cass, who was apparently invulnerable to _Ruby-Fatigue_ _,_ the rest of the team had yet to truly adapt to the sugar fueled powerhouse that now held significant control over their lives. And Yang very much enjoyed watching the process.

Of those unfortunates, Blake was Yang's favorite by a fair degree. Blake was what Yang dubbed, a Class-A mark. She was easy to tease, easy to antagonize, and even easier to manipulate, in a harmless prank kind of way. Her stick was lodged deep, so much so that Yang had to wonder how she was able to sit so crookedly during class.

Despite the mystery, at the moment no manipulation was needed to prod the irritable member of their Team, Ruby's mere presence was coercion enough to bring forth the true inner grouch dormant inside the quietest among them.

Yang sat at the back of the waiting room, watching amusedly as Ruby kept up her relentless verbal assault upon the unfortunate girl that had sat next to her. Blake, her book hanging from limp fingers and her shoulders hunched in defeat, listened helplessly as the young reaper talked her ear off.

The subject of the one-sided conversation wasn't really of interest to Yang, who had long ago tuned it out, as she always did when Ruby went off the deep end. Instead her attention was set in waiting to discover Blake's tolerance threshold, and judging by the twitch of her left eye, and not so subtle annoyance flashing in her eyes, it would not be much longer.

Honestly her resolve was admirable, Blake had done well to last for as long as she had, even Pyrrha, several chairs down, seemed unable to focus on the courtesy magazine she had taken from the small, plastic table at the center of the room. Her eyes frequently wandered across, troubled and laced with a singular form of lassitude toward the speaker.

Yang's smirk, which had been progressively growing for several minutes, deepened considerably when Blake snapped her book closed, her lips thinning and her eyes hardening as she turned to Ruby, who had been close to settling her one-sided debate on the questionable ethics of sugar free sweets. And it was clear, to everyone _but_ Ruby, that the tenuous patience of the raven haired girl had reached its limit.

Yet, as if by diving grace, or horrible luck in Yang's personal opinion, the brewing crisis was averted just before it crossed the threshold intro truly awesome entertainment.

The inner door to the school's infirmary opened, expelling the familiar presence of the headmaster, who strolled out of the room with a slight smile and the incessant tap of his cane upon the floor.

Seeing the man in charge of the school, and all disciplinary action therein, Blake flicked open her book with haste, returning to the safety and comfort of her favorite novel. Similarly, Ruby ceased her chatter, much to her companions' collective relief. Yang, now that the show had ended prematurely, returned her focus to the matter at hand.

The man's eyes scanned the scattered group of teenage girls, before coming to a rest upon the small fidgeting hive of activity closest to the door. He offered a gentle smile, cool and refrained, as he turned to her, balancing his hand primly upon the handle of his cane. He seemed in no way surprised to see them here. "Ah Miss Rose, I do hope your studies have not been negatively impacted by your repeated visits."

Under the headmaster's unwavering gaze, Ruby giggled uneasily. " Uh… eheh, of course not Mister Headmaster sir. All great here, BETTER even!" She squeaked nervously. You just wait until our scores come in. Or you know… you could… not." She finished lamely.

Silence descended upon the waiting room, broken only by the soft thump of Yang's hand against her forehead.

The blonde groaned.

Let it not be said that Ruby was a good liar, or even an adequate one. In fact, it should be known that she was the worst, and should never again open her mouth in front of the headmaster, or ever. And Yang decreed, from henceforth, that there would be no more bees for her knees.

"Yes…" Ozpin answered bemusedly, his smile thinning by the smallest of fractions. "I look forward to hearing about it."

At the far end of the room there was another soft thump and a quiet groan.

Unfortunately Ruby was not finished with the hole she was digging, and in fact had grabbed her shovel and was steadily working her way to Menagerie. Not only was she a horrible liar, but she also didn't know when to quit while she was ahead. Like right now for example. Now was a perfect time to give up.

But she didn't. She continued to sink their wearying tugboat with a relentless torpedo of dogged persistence. Let it not be said that Ruby Rose did not possess remarkable, if poorly conceived and horribly planned conviction.

"Yes sir, just you wait, you'll be like so impressed! You'll say _wow Ruby, I had no idea you were so amazing and smart and totally-not-a-liar._ "

There was a not-so-soft thump as a hard cover novel collided with a nearby skull.

Damn it Rubes.

The headmaster nodded towards the young reaper, hesitantly. "Yes well… I'm certain that will be true." His mouth twitched as if he might have offered something more, before it appeared his better judgment took over. He instead lifted a hand from his cane to give a perfunctory farewell wave, and with the increased tempo of his cane against the floor, left the waiting room with as much poise as one could after speaking with Ruby Rose at any depth or length.

As he left around the bend, Ruby yelped in surprise as a fashion magazine flew across the room and bounced off the back of her head. Nursing the ache with a soothing hand, the little reaper turned back to her sister with an accusatory glare that failed quite spectacularly in its aim to appear intimidating.

"You are officially banned from ever speaking to the headmaster again. In fact just don't speak, ever."

"What… I thought I was pretty convincing" Ruby mewled defensively, only to flush at Blake's derisive snort and Pyrrha's apologetic frown.

"The only way that could have gone worse, would be to show him our actual classwork." Yang retorted with a lopsided smile that was halfway between amused and accusatory. "And had he waited around any longer, I'm sure you would have."

"Yang is… not entirely incorrect." Pyrrha confessed, to Ruby's embarrassment. "With Cassiel in the infirmary our grades have not been as… creditable as they usually are." One might have been surprised that the toast of Mistral would have difficulties in her studies. It was not a well-known fact that her family had cared more for her championship skills than academic courses,

"Speak for yourselves." Blake was quick to defend her position from behind the bookish bulwark before her eyes. "I for one don't need handouts."

"Oh yeah? What about Port's quarterly final?" Yang wondered inoffensively, her innocence utterly betrayed by the haughty smugness of her tone.

To that Blake only offered a piercing glare as she returned to her reading.

"Well… I'm sure that when Cass gets out he'll get us back in tip top shape in no time." Ruby interjected confidently.

"Yeah because I'm sure that's the first thing he'll want to do when he gets out of there."

At Blake's remark the leader of team RBYCN wilted, and Yang sighed in reluctant agreement. "As much as I hate to agree with the uppity bookworm, she might be a little right on this one. It'd be a real low play to ask him to bail us out right after he _gets out_."

Blake, still trying to figure out whether or not she had been insulted, offered nothing else to the conversation, not that it would have mattered since the door to the infirmary opened for the second time that day and all talking was put on hold.

Cassiel walked into the waiting room, and almost immediately it was clear that his stay had done him some good. Color had returned to his complexion giving back his pleasant olive tan, and his eyes were once again focused and kind. His pristine school uniform also cut a far better sight than the blood stained apparel they had found him in.

"Cassiel!" Ruby shouted happily as she jumped from her seat and ran to him.

The boy smiled.

It was a soft, warm… irritating smile.

Yang was quick to turn that smile into a grimace by throwing an issue of _Valian Fair_ at his forehead. The heavy, monthly publication landed on target with perfect accuracy and the full imparted force of her displeasure.

"CASSIEL!" Ruby yelped and zipped forward, trailing rose petals as she leaped to pull him out of his stagger, struck dumb by the makeshift paper rocket half the size and weight of an unwanted phone book.

"YANG!" Ruby screamed at her sister in opened mouth horror, struggling to balance the drunken weight of their tallest teammate. The sight of the diminutive stature of Ruby sagging under the nearly seven foot mountain might have been comical, if not for the rising horror Yang was subjected to.

"Ugh." Cassiel murmured weakly as he folded in on himself in admirable imitation of a wet cardboard box, the suave confidence shown moments ago had disappeared, and with it, his projected image of vigor, vanishing as abruptly as his sense of balance.

Yang's smug vindication was only a brief satisfaction before it malformed into disbelieving dismay. There had been a whole tirade planned for their reunion, a thorough and vivacious dressing-down that would let the boy know full well just how _impressed_ she was with his behavior. She'd even spent several hours practicing a few puns to slip into her repertoire.

All her carefully wrought plans were cast aside as she rushed to help her sister, profuse apologies firing out of her mouth faster than she could articulately formulate the words. The mangled mishmash of apologetic adjectives was not enough to drown out Blake's snide chuckling, however.

The blonde cut the raven haired girl a look sharp enough to decapitate a goliath, the paleness in her cheeks flushing a vibrant pink as she helped her sister prevent Cassiel from dropping to the waiting room floor like a sack of potatoes.

The boy muttered nonsensically, something about ghosts or lights or _something_ ; Yang was too panicked to care. Instead she grabbed him by the shoulders and propped the nearly comatose boy against her chest as Pyrrha steadily walked over with the strident pace of an overworked nursemaid.

"I thought the idea was to get him out of the infirmary, not _put him back in there_." She eyed Yang skeptically, before placing a palm upon his forehead to examine the rather prominent swelling that had already begun to form.

"I… well uh…" Yang laughed uneasily, scrubbing her long golden locks with one hand, the other balancing Cassiel's weight on her sternum as she tried to ignore Ruby's pointed stare. "Would you believe me if I told you there was a plan behind all of this?"

"If it was to nearly kill our teammate then good work, mission accomplished." Blake applauded Yang with a slow measure of sarcastic claps, each impact of her palms brimming with the weight of her cynicism.

"Yeah well…" Yang's impending retort floundered as she grasped for a comeback. But thankfully, like always, her quick wit saved the day. "Bleh," She spat at Blake, sticking her tongue out in childish rebuke.

The girl leaned back in outrage at the crude gesture, and appeared fully ready to act on several weeks of repressed anger.

Mercifully, Cassiel's return to his senses averted her attentions, and prevented what would no doubt have been a disastrous outcome for those present.

"By His light, spare me from this _madness_!" The boy growled despairingly to himself as he leaned heavily away from the impending conflict with the wearied desperation of a broken man twice his age. Ruby moved to help as he lurched back from the two heated girls, mouth twisted into a concerned frown, but he warded her off with a dismissive gesticulation of his hand.

"If you would allow me but a moment." He pleaded softly, the long-suffering desperation in his voice a slap in the face for Yang as she realized her responsibility for his vexation. She'd never heard him so… annoyed with them. He was always so patient and enduring, that to hear the barely restrained exasperation in his voice as he turned to them, with a tired, harried look in his eyes, hit her somewhere she never expected.

"Sure… sure." Ruby whispered tenderly, the hurt in her eyes harshly visible as she quietly stepped away.

An awkward silence befell the room as the young huntsman made his best attempt to gather himself, balancing on uneasy legs as he tended to the bruise developing on his forehead. The team lingered carefully at the periphery, not quite certain how to handle this new side of their male member. Even Blake, usually withdrawn in her books, had laid her novel down to study him uncertainly.

While by far the mildest form of frustration ever conceived, the fact that Cassiel had snapped at them in any form came as a nasty shock to all of them.

Then, something flashed across his face, an unreadable expression that quickly disappeared as he dusted himself off and looked to his team. Cassiel smiled, though it pained Yang to see the palpable strain he underwent to maintain the threadbare disguise. And then like a wave something fell over him, and she could again see the effortless kindliness in that smile of his.

"I never did have a _head_ for those kinds of magazines."

There was a moment where nothing happened, though it did not last before a loud _~snerk~_ broke the silence.

"Too many _issues_."

And against all her thoughts and feelings in that moment, Yang laughed. Her laughter, loud and obnoxious, filled the hall with the sound. She didn't care that his puns were as trashy and lazy as hers on her worst day. She gave no thought to the fact that everyone else was staring as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. And she certainly paid no mind to the admonishing look Blake shot her way. All she cared about was that the friend she had wronged was smiling again, and the warmth that filled her chest as he looked at her with gentle silver eyes.

All that mattered to Yang Xiao Long, was that Cassiel had come back.

* * *

There he sat alone in the looming dark, watching a sun set upon a fading world that knew not yet how limited time had become.

The guardian was grateful to have the opportunity to be private with his thoughts, a rare commodity for someone of his condition and of vital necessity given his inclination for the future. Ghost was, for the first time in years long beyond his memory, away. He had sent the machine to perform a simple task, though he doubted Ghost realized the full reality of what he asked. If it did, it would have never agreed to go. Regardless it all hinged on his decision, and would have lasting repercussions to a future that ever grew uncertain. And though he could not deny the necessity, he was yet plagued by the specter of his regret as he shattered an oath he had upheld for centuries. He could feel the ache in his soul at the very concept of his plans and there was as a sickness within, a growing dark.

Yet he had no other choice.

There was no other option.

Cassiel turned from the window and back to the dorm, a solemn gravity befalling his hardened expression as he studied the sleeping faces of his team in their gravity defying bunks. Recollections of what he had discussed with Ozpin offered no reprieve, but left a bitter taste in his mouth. If he was to save this world, he could not allow himself to be tied down by noble desires and ancient loyalties. Lifting a hand he drew upon his power and studied the timid flame, huddled and feeble in his palm, a flame that no longer burned bright with hope and light. The guardian sighed heavily, feeling at that moment the accumulated weight of his sins.

His light was fading, and would not last the war that was sure to come. Remnant was under threat, and he feared he no longer had the strength to guarantee its survival. His abilities as a guardian were but a shadow of what they had once been, a lingering memento to all he had once been, both as a man and as a warrior.

If he was to save this world, the Traveler's Light alone could not help him.

There was no sacrifice too great to bear if it would save this world.

And if the light could not help him…

There was always the dark.


End file.
